


Riddle's Obsession

by Madriddler



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Muggle, Blood and Injury, Bondage, Character Death, Dom/sub, Dubious Consent, Harry falls down the mafia hole, M/M, Minor Character Death, Organized Crime, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Sex, Possessive Tom Riddle, Sub Harry, Torture, Violence, mafia, mafia stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-08-14
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:54:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 71,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23519557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madriddler/pseuds/Madriddler
Summary: Tom Riddle the secret leader of the most influential and dangerous Crime Family in the city. Harry Potter, a common college student who lives with his childhood friends. A chance meeting between the two changed Harry's life forever. Tom Riddle wants Harry, and he will go through hell to get it.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Blaise Zabini, Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | Voldemort, Harry Potter/Voldemort
Comments: 270
Kudos: 1298





	1. Chapter 1

Riddle’s Obsession

Ch. 1

“No, no please don’t—”

The shot rang out in the forest. The body slumped to the ground, falling sideway as its arm landed over the pre-dug hole in front of the body. The two people standing in front of the body stared and turned to each other. “He fell funny,” one said.

“What you mean?”

“He didn’t fall in the hole he dug,” the first one said, pointing at the body with his gun.

“Then just kick him in,” the second shrugged. He looked around the wide landscape, seeing nothing but trees around them. The first guy just stood there staring at the body as though hoping that the wind would just push it into the hole. The second person joined in staring.

Five minutes passed before the second person turned to the first, “Goyle hurry up and push him!”

“Don’t yell at me Crabbe,” Goyle said, “you know about my heart!”

“Oh I’m sure you’ll get a heart attack by being yelled at,” Crabbe said. “Look just—” He stepped forward and awkwardly nudged the body with his foot. The body rocked back and forth but stayed in its place. “Will you help me? The bastard’s heavy!”

“I’m not touching a dead body—I just got my shoes shined!” Goyle argued. Crabbe stopped and stared at Goyle frustratedly. He bent down his heavy frame, swiped his finger on the bloody wound where Goyle shot the body and then swiped his bloodied finger on Goyle’s shoe. “There, now you can move it,” he said standing up.

Goyle just stared at Crabbe, muttering something under his breath. The two nudged the body into the hole and Goyle walked to the nearest tree, muttering out a string of curses as he leaned against it, cleaning his shoe with a napkin in his pocket while Crabbe shoveled dirt over the body. When they were done, Goyle walked over the freshly covered hole and turned to Crabbe, “You’re buying me dinner,” he said.

“Whatever, at least it’s done now,” Crabbe shrugged. The two began walking back to their car which they parked at the edge of the forest. Crabbe chuckled, “Know what? You’re right, he did fell funny.”

The brunet young adult yawned as he stretched. His shirt rode up his lithe body, giving a scandalous glimpse to a taunt stomach and treasure trail. The blonde next to him rolled his eyes and slammed the book in front of him close, causing the raven-haired to jump. “Wake up Harry!”

“God Draco don’t scare me,” Harry said, groaning a little and fixing his glasses. “I’m just a bit tired.”

The blonde rolled his eyes and shook his head. “We’re supposed to be study now,” he said. “It’s not my fault you spent all night with McLaggen,” he said the name with full disgust. Harry sighed and turned to his friend.

“What?” he said. “We’ve just been on two dates and you hate him?”

“Yes,” Draco said, “In fact I hated him before your first date.”

“Draco,” Harry groaned. He turned to give the blonde a glare, “I’m twenty years old! I don’t need you to babysit me over who I date. We all can’t have perfect relationships like you and Blaise.”

“Still doesn’t mean you can’t shoot for that,” Draco argued. “I mean, yeah I get it McLaggen’s hot, very hot, but he doesn’t look like a stable relationship.”

“Maybe I don’t want that,” Harry said. “Look, I’m not looking for happily ever after right now. The thing between McLaggen and I isn’t serious, so stop worrying about it.”

Draco still looked unconvinced. He stood up and stretched. The blonde was taller than Harry, though that was a given since the raven-haired man was only five foot six, and he had a dancer’s body. His gray eyes always enchanted Harry in how beautiful they were, and though Draco can be a giant prat most of the times, Harry still loved him as a friend. “Well looks like study’s out of the question,” Draco said, looking at his phone. “We’re going to be late to the gym.”

“Already?” Harry asked, he closed his book and jumped out of his seat, “Wait... oh no it’s my leg day,” he said with both a grin and groan.

Draco chuckled, “Don’t be a baby, besides you love the results,” he said, giving Harry’s bubble butt a light smack. Harry blushed and smacked Draco’s butt back. “Watch it Potter,” Draco said giving a fake threat.

“What are you going to do Malfoy? Cry to Daddy?” Harry said, sticking his tongue out at his friend.

“Between the two of us, it’ll be you who’s crying out for Daddy,” Draco said. “Come on, I don’t want Blaise to be angry.” Harry nodded and the two ran out of their college’s library.

Harry, Blaise, and Draco knew each other since high school. The three of them were inseparable since the very first day, and since then they always stuck together. From family events to tragedies, the trio got through it together. Now, all in their junior year of college, Harry couldn’t see his life any different. He didn’t need a fulltime man, not really, he has the two best men in his life right now. Why would he try to ruin that?

Harry and Draco live in an apartment with Blaise a short walk from their college. The college itself was rather small, consistent of four main buildings that rose four stories high with a quad in the middle of them, along with a pathway that led to an expansive library. It was in the suburban part of the city, which offered a large park with a track that the students use to run regularly. And though the school gym was alright, it was less than satisfactory for Draco. And so, when Harry and Draco dropped their stuff off in their apartment and changed into their gym clothes, the two got into an expensive looking car and Draco drove them away from the college and suburbs towards the more expensive parts of the city where the buildings transitioned into skyscrapers, and at the base of one of the more expensive looking skyscrapers, a driveway led to an underground parking lot where there was a space reserved just for them… or specifically Draco. His car looked more at home along with the row of expensive cars in the parking lot, and Draco slid out nonchalantly while Harry still looked a little nervous. “Two years and I still feel uncomfortable,” he sighed to his friend. “How can you survive being surrounded by so much _money_?”

“Mindset Harry,” Draco said. “Unlike all these other privileged fucks, we actually earned our place here... well you and Blaise have.”

“And you’re just another privileged fuck?” Harry asked. Draco laughed.

“Hell no! I am a Malfoy, I am better than all the rest,” he said. “The Malfoys help this city grow. I am allowed to enjoy the benefits of my family’s long efforts.”

“That... is awkwardly said,” Harry sighed. Draco rolled his eyes but said no more. They walked through the parking lot to an elevator which was at the far end. The elevator had mirrors for walls and Harry stared at their reflections and couldn’t help but compare.

Harry’s emerald eyes were hidden behind large round glasses. He was skinny with a supple bubble butt and toned arms, however he was only wearing a loose red shirt and basket ball shorts, which showed his tanned legs. Draco, meanwhile, liked to feel his clothes pressed against him. Green lycra that hugged his torso and legs, flaunting everything he had to offer, but nobody but Blaise can touch. “Don’t you ever feel naked wearing those?” Harry asked.

“That is the point Harry,” Draco said as if it was obvious. “I like men to see but not touch—unless it’s you or Blaise.”

“As if I want to touch you,” Harry said, rolling his eyes.

“Shut up, you know you love me,” Draco laughed, and the elevator opened and the two stepped into the gym.

The Horntail Gym was one of the most exclusive personal wellness centers in the city. The large room had a sleek, modern design with a reception desk in front of the elevator, one of the only ways to get into the gym, as well as a waiting area to the side. Through the waiting area was the gym itself which was always in use by the wealthy and influential. The machines were the newest, the weights were perfect, and everything was ready for you along with personal trainers. To the right of the reception area was a heavy wooden door that led to a sauna filled with the heavier wealthy people and a different one that the people who actually exercise use. Soft pop music played as they walked in. Harry looked around and smiled when he saw Blaise sitting in the waiting area.

Blaise Zabini was a handsome man with dark skin and built muscles. Taller than Harry and Draco, smiled and waved back. Like Harry, he was wearing light clothes, but Harry knew in the summertime Blaise liked to take off his shirt revealing his thick pecs and killer abs. He was, in a word, perfect. And Harry’s best friend. He hugged Harry and kissed Draco when they got close enough. “You’re late boys,” he chuckled.

“No we’re not, we arrive when we arrive,” Draco said.

Blaise laughed and shook his head. “Whatever babe,” he said. He patted Draco’s back and rested his hand on Draco’s ass, “Let’s just get started, alright? The sooner we’re done the sooner we can relax in the sauna!”

Harry smiled and jumped to get a head start. He pulled out his headphones and took a breath as music blasted in his ears. He smiled back at Draco and Blaise who also had headphones in. Lost in his music, Harry started his workout routine for leg day. Three years’ worth of work became muscle memory for the young adult, and he made his way to the treadmill first. It was second nature, running on it for a solid mile. The music carried Harry throughout as his legs started to burn a good burn. When he was done, it was time for the machines. One by one Harry used them, getting drenched in his own sweat.

Their routines took a little more than an hour, but as Harry finished is bar squats, he turned to see that Draco and Blaise were still in the middle of their routines. He walked up to them and tapped their shoulders, “I’ll see you in the sauna,” he breathed.

“See you, come on Draco babe ten more!” Blaise said as Draco pushed the dumbbell above him.

Harry walked away and took off his headphones, putting them and his phone in his bag. Dabbing his forehead with a towel, Harry made his way to the locker room outside the sauna. The locker room was connected to showers on the opposite side, each with a thick privacy screen. Harry ruffled through his bag before pulling out trunks and towels. He then headed to the showers to clean off his sweat and odor from his workout.

Harry couldn’t help but moan as the hot water fell on his aching butt and legs. He slid his soapy hands down his ass and legs, biting his lower lip at the relief. Smiling to himself, he finished his shower and dried himself off, putting on his tight pair of swim trunks. When he opened up the privacy screen, Harry’s face went immediately red.

A man was standing in front of him.

He was tall with sleek muscles, proof that he obviously take very careful steps on how he looks. However, it wasn’t his muscles or abs that had Harry blushing. It was his eyes. Beautiful dark eyes that held a cold yet mysterious gaze. Dangerous almost, but Harry was drawn to it nevertheless. The owner of the eyes smirked and combed his fingers through his black hair. “Hello beautiful,” he said, “was that I heard making so lovely noises?”

“I—I...” Harry blushed. The man gave a chuckle.

“Did I stun you silent, little songbird? I apologize,” he said. “I was so enraptured by your beautiful voice that I just needed to know who it belonged to. And now I see that the owner is equally as beautiful.”

“Uhh... thank you,” Harry muttered.

The man extended his hand, “Are you going to the sauna as well? If so, why not go together? I would love to know more about you, songbird.”

“I’m uhh waiting for my friends,” Harry said.

“They won’t mind,” the man said. “Come on, I want to learn more about you, songbird.”

“I guess they won’t mind... and it’ll only be for a little bit till they come in,” Harry blushed. The man’s smile widened, and Harry was once again lost in his eyes.

“Wonderful, my songbird,” he said, “Do you have a name?”

“Yeah...” Harry nodded, he debated momentarily on sharing it before saying, “Harry, Harry Potter.”

“Harry,” the man breathed. Hearing his name in the man’s voice sent a shiver down Harry’s spine as blood rushed to his cheeks. “What a lovely songbird you are. And so pretty too. …” He combed his hands through Harry’s hair and Harry opened his mouth in a soft moan. “My name is Tom Riddle,” the man said.

“Tom...”

“Yes,” Tom Riddle said, “come along songbird, let’s go relax in the sauna.” He walked away, his fingers slipping through Harry’s hair. Harry followed this strange yet perfect man out of the showers and into the sauna.

It was empty, and Harry sat down next to Tom. He relaxed and closed his eyes, just feeling both odd and content at being close to this stranger. He looked up after a while and admire the way Tom’s clear pale skin covered in sweat. It wasn’t ugly or a deluge, instead, pristine drops formed on his body, moving down in clear lines, outline his body and leading to a rather impressive bulge in his own pair of black swimming trunks. Tom caught Harry staring and chuckled, “It’s okay to look songbird, but I don’t know you enough to touch,” he said.

“Sorry!” Harry yipped, blushing madly. He tried to move away but Tom pulled him closer. “Stay by me!” he ordered.

The door opened and Draco and Blaise got in quickly. “Harry, there you are,” Blaise smiled.

“Blaise,” Harry breathed. He stood up quickly and glanced at the stranger, “Tom umm these are my friends and...”

“It’s fine,” Tom said. “I was about done anyway. I will see you again, my songbird.” He stood up and ruffled Harry’s hair, letting his fingers drag through it as he walked away. Harry stared blushing before turning to Blaise and Draco.

“Who was that?” Draco demanded.

“Tom... we just met,” Harry said, he sat down meekly between the two. Blaise and Draco stared at him before looking at each other.

“Draco,” Blaise said, “our little boy had a man flirting with him.”

“I know! What are we going to do with our son?” Draco asked. Harry groaned and buried his face in his hands. The two shook their heads in unison. “Still though, this Tom... he looks familiar,” he said. “Can’t place it, though.”

“Well either way it was a bit creepy,” Blaise said. “Let’s just relax, alright?” He wrapped his arm around Harry’s shoulders, Draco doing the same and the three just relaxed in the sauna, a peaceful quiet capturing them.


	2. Chapter 2

Ch. 2

The meeting room was located in an old warehouse that was on the outskirts of the forest near the city. An old dirt road, forgotten by everyone, leads to the warehouse, which then was used to store lumber, now served to the whims of its new owner. The warehouse looked as though it was dilapidated, its windows smashed, and the exterior rusted from age. In the parking lot that was slowly being taken over by nature, numerous black cars, all looking identical, were waiting. Inside the warehouse, however, was a completely different story.

The interior was completely modernized. The lighting was updated, lanterns hanged from the ceiling and along the walls as in the middle a vast black table sat. At the head of the table, a man in a sleek suit sat coolly in a raised throne-like chair, looking down at the others sitting around the table. His dark eyes moved from one follower to the next before falling on two. “Crabbe… Goyle, tell me, is our little problem dealt with?”

The two heavyset men stood up, their chairs scrapping against the wooden floor. “Yes, sir,” Crabbe said. “It’s all cleaned up and dealt with—though someone was cleaning more than the other,” he added, giving Goyle a glare.

“My shoes were just shined,” Goyle muttered, “anyways, sir, he’s all dead and buried.”

“Good, it is a shame, however, he was a fine accountant,” the man at the head said, shaking his head slightly. “It is so troubling when people grow morals. However, that will not happen with you, will it?” He looked down at a skittish looking man, who jumped slightly when the dark eyes fell on him. “N-No sir, Mr. Riddle, sir,” he said.

“Good,” Mr. Riddle said, looking at the rest of the table, “it is horrible when accidents happen, isn’t it?”

The group laughed, the skittish man joining uncertainly. Riddle raised his hand and silence fell. He looked around, “To continue this good news, I have an announcement,” he said. “I have found the one I will marry.”

“Yeah!”

“Go boss!”

“Always knew you had it in you!”

The table clapped and cheered for Mr. Riddle. Riddle gave a short smile and allowed the applause and cheers to continue. He soaked in the attention before raising his hand once more. The group’s noise slowly died down. “Yes,” he continued, “I have found the boy I will marry, however he has yet to realize his great future,” he said. “And I need to learn more about him. To that end, I will need a faithful volunteer to shadow him and learn all you can about my future spouse.”

“I will,” a man said, standing up. He was a younger member. His hair was short and face squared.

“Ah, Flint,” Riddle said. “Yes, you look closer to my spouse’s age,” he nodded. “I will trust you to shadow him and learn all you can.”

“Yes, sir,” Flint said, bowing his head before sitting down.

“Sir,” Goyle said, “Can we ask—err—what is his name?” He glanced around awkwardly and fearfully. “If that’s okay with you,” he said fearfully.

Riddle gave out a loud laugh, “Goyle, Goyle—why are you so fearful? This is a happy day! Your boss will soon have a spouse! And your wife will have a commission of designing and making his wedding dress of course.”

“Sorry, sir,” Goyle grumbled, “thank you for your generosity.”

“Of course, Goyle. Now for his name, my blushing bride to be is named Harry Potter. He looks to be a college student however I do not know which. He was, however, around the Malfoy heir, they seem to be friends. Marcus, you must figure out the extent of their relationship as well, you’ll get it done, I know you will. Now...” He settled himself down, his voice turning business-like. “Lestranges, report.”

Three people stood up, two men and one woman. The woman spoke. “The family’s still being stubborn, even after we send several reminders of how much they owe us. Along with that, that foreign gang that’s trying to push on in didn’t really understand English, so I gave them a helping hand.” She bent down and picked up a plastic bag, throwing it on the table. The skittish man screamed as the bag slid across the table, leaving a red path. Riddle did not need to look into the bag to know what was in it. Instead he just gave a nod of approval.

“Keep the pressure on them, and make sure they understand they listen to me,” he said. “As for the family, if they still refuse to pay, make them disappear.”

“Understood,” the woman said with a sadistic grin.

“Good, now for our finance....”

Their apartment was just across from their college. Harry, Blaise and Draco lived on the tenth and top floor of their apartment, It was an average two bedroom apartment with one large living area with a tiny slit in the corner for the kitchen, and a short hallway from the main room that led to four doors. Two doors led to bedrooms, one to a bathroom, and the last a closet. Harry was in his room, sitting in a desk that was pushed against an open window. Harry’s room was sparsely decorated. His desk was in a corner against the window, which provided Harry a view of the nearby park. Across the room was his bed in the opposite corner and dresser. His wooden floor had a small emerald rug, and there was a small bookcase of his books next to his desk.

Right now, Harry was hunched over his desk, schoolwork spread out in front of him, as his laptop played music. He hummed along with the song as he flipped through boring history books. He leaned back in his chair and groaned, “Harry what the hell were you thinking saving your history elective for this year?”

“Because you’re a gay twink with an English Major,” Blaise answered him. Harry turned his head lazily towards his door where Blaise was leaning against, his arms crossed.

“Really? I thought I was a Silver Fox,” Harry said.

“Nah, you’re not allowed, you’re a bottom,” Blaise smirked.

“Really?” Harry laughed, “and how do you know I’m a bottom, Zabini?” He smirked.

“Because you just give out big bottom energy, Potter,” Zabini said. “Besides, we’ve been friends for how long? I think I know when my two boys are bottoms. Anyway, dinner’s almost ready.”

Harry perked up at this. His smile grew and stood up immediately, “Coming!” he smiled.

“Not in front of me, kid,” Blaise said and he turned to leave.

Harry followed him but stopped. Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw a glimmer. He turned around and walked back to the window, looking out to see the late cloudless sky. It was only October, and the nights were getting longer. He looked around and closed his eyes to smell the autumn air. _Must have been my imagination,_ he thought before closing his window and leaving his room for dinner.

Harry and Draco sat in a small square table by the kitchen area, sitting opposite of each other while Blaise served them before sitting between. “That enough, son?” Blaise asked, looking at Harry. It was just how their relationship worked. Harry was the smallest and youngest of the trio, and when Draco and Blaise started to date, they somewhat adopted their friend, starting to call Harry their son as a joke. The joke went on and it just became their thing.

“More than enough, you trying to stuff me or something?” Harry said, staring at his plate.

“Maybe, I just want to make sure my boy is eating good,” Blaise said. “Besides, you did great today at the gym.”

“Gee, thanks dad,” Harry muttered but he ate happily. “Though I thought you and Draco were too busy touching each other to really watch me.”

“We always have time to watch our son,” Draco smirked, “especially when we’re ‘too busy touching each other.’”

“Nope! Don’t want to think about that,” Harry grimaced. “I already can barely get ready for my damn history test, I don’t want the thought of my best friends fucking to ruin it even more.”

“Then you should have studied earlier,” Draco shrugged.

“I was with you!” Harry snapped back, “but it’s hard to study with you around.” He filled his mouth with food while Draco gave him an arrogant look.

“I can’t help it if I’m fabulous,” he said simply, waving his fork around.

“Dad make him stop,” Harry groaned.

Blaise chuckled and grabbed the back of Draco’s neck, pulling him into a kiss. Harry rolled his eyes, and looked away. “Not like that,” he muttered, his own heart pounding fiercely. The trio ate their dinner, going over their days and plans for the rest of the night. When they were done eating, Harry took their dirty dishes and went to the kitchen to clean up while Draco and Blaise relaxed in front of their fifty-two inch television.

“I think I’m going out for a walk after this,” Harry said as he cleaned.

“Your legs and ass not killing you yet?” Draco asked.

“No, I feel good actually, and I can use the fresh air,” Harry said.

“Alright, but remember the show starts at nine,” Draco said, “and we’re not waiting for your slow ass!”

“No worries, it’s just a quick walk,” Harry shrugged.

“Take a jacket, it’s cold,” Blaise said, glancing back at Harry.

“Yeah, yeah,” Harry said. He finished quickly as Draco and Blaise flipped through _Netflix_. He went to his room, grabbed his jacket, phone, and wallet and left their apartment fiddling with his headphones.

Harry had the earbuds untangled by the time he reached the apartment and rode it down as he scrolled through his songs, deciding to listen to pop songs from when he was a kid. He stepped out into the early night autumn air and took a deep breath. The feeling inside him continued to hurt, but he ignored it as he walked away from the apartment. It was only seven-thirty as he checked his phone, more than enough time for him to try and fill the pain.

“Thank god for Grindr,” Harry sighed. Though he hated lying to his best friends, he knew that it would be better if they did not know. He opened the app as he walked, scrolling through the familiar gay college kids as he went towards the park. He stopped when he saw a very handsome man shirtless and smiling cockily at the camera. _I could do Cormac again,_ he thought to himself before shaking his head and scrolled some more.

He found a cute redhead as he reached the park and started messaging him. He responded, and Harry smiled as they texted and swapped pictures. He sat on a bench nearby the park entrance and waited as the redhead promised to come. Ten minutes later, Harry looked up to see the redhead smiling down on him. They kissed, and Harry led him deeper into the park, where trees grew and gave them needed privacy…

Flint was sitting on a nearby bench, watching the interaction go down. As he watch Potter and the other boy go into the woods, he pulled out his phone and made a call, “Hello, sir?” he said, “It is Flint.”

“Yes, tell me how is my little songbird?” Mr. Riddle asked on the other side.

“It looks like he just scheduled a hook up,” Flint said, “they just went into the trees here at Van Cork Park.”

“I see,” Mr. Riddle said, sounding very displeased. “So my songbird is promiscuous?”

“Unfortunately, sir,” Flint said. “Should I break it up?”

There was a long silence before Mr. Riddle said, “No, let my songbird have his fun tonight. I will reprimand him when I have my hands on him. For now, I want you to learn more about my songbird. Personal stuff. Do you know where he lives?”

“Yes sir, right across of the park, looks like the tenth floor,” Flint said. “Oh—” He interrupted himself as he watched another man around Potter’s age with blond curly hair walk towards the trees, looking very angry. “We might have a situation, sir.”

“What do you mean?”

“Another person is walking into the woods, and they look pissed,” Flint said.

“Keep watching, I don’t want my songbird to know you are there yet,” Riddle ordered. “Keep me updated.”

“Understood, sir,” Flint nodded. He hung up and watched the woods. Ten minutes later, the redhead ran out while the sounds of yelling came from that direction. Soon, Potter and the blonde were walking out of the woods. “You are not my babysitter McLaggen! What the fuck!” Potter yelled.

“I am your boyfriend Harry! What, you don’t think I knew you were whoring yourself out here?” McLaggen yelled. Harry stopped in his tracks and glared at him.

“Two dates! Two dates does not mean we’re dating! I told you from the beginning that I just want you for that cock—and now you decided to grow a heart?” Harry yelled.

“Can you sound less like a fucking whore?” McLaggen demanded.

“What? Now you don’t want me being a whore?” Harry scoffed. “Sounds very different from last night Cormac.” He moved to walk away but Cormac grabbed him by the wrist. “Let go of me!” Harry said.

“No,” Cormac said, his eyes growing dark. “You want to be a whore, then you’re going to be my whore.” He started to pull Harry back to the trees with the smaller boy struggling. “No! Let go you crazy bastard—stop!”

Flint sighed and stood up, making an executive decision. “HEY!” He yelled, walking towards them. Cormac and Harry stopped. Harry used the distraction to yank his wrist from Cormac, stumbling back a couple steps.

“What do you want?” Cormac demanded. “This doesn’t concern you.”

“Well it’s concerning me now, boy,” Flint said, stepping up to Cormac. He flexed his muscles and stared down at the young man. “Well?” he said.

Cormac looked up and down Flint’s body before stepping away, spitting the ground, “We’re not done Harry,” he threatened before walking away.

Flint immediately turned around to Harry, “Are you okay?”

“Thanks, but I could have handled it myself,” Harry said, rubbing his wrist. “Stupid fucker scared my hook up off,” he muttered.

“So you’re more angry that your random fuck ran away than him almost assaulting you?” Flint asked.

“Why do you care? Look, thanks and all, but I don’t need someone swooping in to save me,” Harry said. He pulled out his phone and opened Grindr again.

“Still going for dick?”

“Dude legit shut up,” Harry said, glaring at Flint. “You don’t know me.”

“Look—how about I get you a cup of coffee?” Flint sighed. Harry turned to stare at him. “I got a husband,” Flint continued, “Would just be better I think if we got you something.”

“This is ridiculous—I’m going home,” Harry muttered. “Thanks for saving me, hope to never see you again.” He shoved his phone into his pocket and walked away muttering angrily. Flint watched him until the boy was just barely out of sight. Then he pulled out his own phone and called Riddle, giving him an update on everything that just happened.

“Keep watching him,” Riddle ordered, “I will run into him tomorrow.”


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

There was an old bookshop about twenty minutes from the college. It’s exterior was made of old stone, sitting on a corner with higher, modern buildings on either side. The bookstore was tall, at least two stories high, and from it’s second store flown an exceptionally large Pride Flag that the owner refused to let down, despite the myriad of homophobic attacks the store got from their stance. Inside was a beauty of wooden architecture. The double doors led directly to an old beautiful counter, on which an assortment of colorful plants sat, along with two registers, a modern one and an old antique one that looked as black and shiny as the day it was made. Bookshelves, obviously, filled up most of the shop, all sitting perfectly in rows, the books neatly categories. In the corner by large windows was a reading nook, the walls holding shelves that held the hottest books and new releases. Behind the counter was a small office with large clear windows that have brown blinds which are usually pulled up, unless the owner had an important meeting. Next to that, and accessible to the public, was a spiraling staircase that led to the second floor, where the light burst in through the pride flag, giving everything a hue of rainbows. It was on this floor where the bookstore held it’s very expansive LGBT section, holding books written as far back as the early 1900s, and ever growing.

This pleasantly gay bookstore, a heaven for gay readers, was called Marauders, and it was here where Harry worked.

Marauders was owned by a lovely couple named Sirius and Remus Black. They both were around Harry’s parents’ age, in their forties, and yet did not look like it at all. Sirius was a handsome man with long shaggy black hair, while Remus had short sandy hair. It was Sirius who was the real owner, and Harry was one of two employees despite the popularity of the bookstore. It was currently the weekend, and Harry arrived at the store early, unlocking the front door with his key.

“The apprentice beats his master!? Impossible!” a voice guffed. Harry turned on the doorstep to see Sirius walked up to Harry, tired-eyed and holding two large cups. “Come on you twink, let me at least have this,” he joked. He held out one of the cups to Harry.

“I was just up earlier,” Harry shrugged. “Besides, I want to check on that copy of _Alice in Wonderland_ downstairs.”

“It should be dry by now,” Sirius said, “but drink some coffee first.”

“Okay,” Harry nodded, and the two went to Sirius’s office, Harry lounging in a sofa while Sirius sat behind his desk.

“So, how’s your love life going, pup?” Sirius asked, “still jumping around?”

“Yeah,” Harry nodded. “Been going on some dates, but uhh they didn’t end good.” He started to frown.

“Ohh, why’s that?” Sirius asked, looking at Harry.

Harry sighed and shook his head slightly, “A guy I only had a couple dates with has gotten a bit too clingy,” he said. “I was on a hook up with this hot redhead and out of nowhere Cormac just ran in and ruined it all!”

“Oof,” Sirius said, giving Harry a sympathetic look. “Did you deck him at least?”

“I tried, but this guy got in the way,” Harry said. “He was white knighting and tried to save me.”

“Damn, that must have been awful,” Sirius chuckled.

“You don’t know the half of it,” Harry groaned. “I don’t know if he wanted in my pants or seriously thought he was being a good person—bastard even tried asking me out for a cup of coffee, saying he got a husband or something.”

“Well fuck him,” Sirius said, “Not that way—the other—you know,” he shrugged and took a huge gulp of his coffee. “Anyway, I’m guessing there won’t be a third date with this Cormac?”

“Fuck no,” Harry said, “and I tried to get again with the sexy redhead, but he blocked me.”

“Well, that’s what you get for trying to date someone your own age, pup,” Sirius sighed. “How many times have we told you to date older?”

“Too many to count,” Harry said. He looked up at Sirius and gave a cocky smirk, “But you sure a Daddy can keep up with me?”

“Ha!” Sirius laughed, “Boy if we were open, we would tire _you_ out!” The two laughed with Harry giving a wishful smile as he shook his head.

“I don’t know if I want something long term, or short term with you two,” he said, “Cause then I couldn’t help but keep calling you Daddy at work.”

“Well then it’s a good thing that Remus’s more than enough for me, eh?” Sirius said, he took another sip and looked at Harry. He saw the look his employee had and said, “So, pretend you were looking for a long-term, what do you want in one?”

“Huh, oh...” Harry thought for a moment. “Well, older is nice,” he said, “but not too old. Thirties maybe be the oldest, but if it’s long term… I don’t want someone my age. I want a man long-term, everyone my age are still boys.”

“How mature,” Sirius chuckled. “What else?”

Harry thought for a moment before adding, “Tall, strong, I want him to lift me up and carry me. Treat me like a princess, yeah, but I’m not a princess—understand?”

“Believe me Harry, I know you, you are far from being a princess,” Sirius smirked. Harry glared at him for a moment before continuing about his dream man.

“I want a man who can take care of me, who I know I am safe in his arms no matter what, yeah, but I want him to actually have a personality, so I can talk with him and worship his body at the same time. We can be equals in the relationship, but he is in charge, obviously.” Harry sighed, ddland glanced at Sirius, “I need to be controlled.”

“Really now?” Sirius hummed, “Sounds like you need a Dom Daddy who can handle a brat like you.”

Harry shrugged and finished his coffee. “Maybe, but anyway I’m going downstairs, the glue should be dry by now.”

“Alright,” Sirius nodded, “want me to check on it too? This is the first book you restored by yourself.”

“No, I got this, thank you though,” Harry shook his head. He stretched as he stood up and threw away his cup as he left the office. He walked the length of the room towards the back, where a door was. He unlocked it and opened it to a stone staircase that led to the basement. In the basement was a large modern sealed glass room that Sirius uses to repair books. Harry entered it and went to the metal table on which a book sat. Harry sighed as he sat down, taking off the weight from the cover. It was an old copy of _Alice in Wonderland,_ an elderly couple asked the shop if they could repair it for their grandchild, Harry remembered as he carefully leafed through the pages which were spilling out when they first got the book.

“Perfect,” Harry sighed, as he closed the back cover. He picked up the book gingerly and held it with care as he left the sealed room and basement. As he closed the door after climbing the stairs, Harry saw Sirius flipping an Open sign in the window. “It’s done,” he called out. “I’m going to call the old couple.”

“Alright, just make sure to man the register when you’re done,” Sirius said. “I’m just going to have one final sweep around.”

Harry nodded and began to walk towards the office once more. He stopped and frowned, looking towards the window when he felt he saw a flash of something. He squinted, only to see people walking down the sidewalk like normal. “You’re going insane Potter,” he sighed to himself, shaking his head. And deciding to leave it at that and went to the office.

“He’s at work now, boss,” Flint said, sitting in his car.

“Where?” Mr. Riddle’s voice asked briskly.

“A book shop off 23rd and Rail,” Flint said. “It’s called Marauders, big bookshop with a pride flag on it.”

“I see, very well. Keep watch until I arrive,” Riddle said.

“Yes sir,” Flint said, and Riddle hung up. Flint gave a sigh and looked at his phone, scrolling through a contact and calling it. “Hey babe, looks like I’ll be missing our lunch, boss wants me to work through it. –Yeah, I know, but I’m actually in front of a very gay bookshop, I’ll get you a gift…”

The morning saw a few regulars drift in, along with the occasional newcomer. Harry’s favorite customers were complete newcomers who walked in ever so hesitating. These boys, usually around fifteen, would look around cautiously, inching ever so slowly to the spiral staircase while glancing over their shoulder to see if anyone was watching. One such customer was in the store right now, and Harry couldn’t help but watch a bit. He was cute, very small with a mousey nose and blonde hair. He looked so cute and scared. The boy hesitated around the classic literature shelves, looking at the stairs hopefully.

There was a discouraging glimmer in the boy’s eyes, and he backed away. Harry stood up and made his way to him. “Hello,” he said good naturedly, “Can I help you?”

“Meep!” The small boy jumped and looked up at Harry. “Uhh yeah—I was wondering if… if I could…” his eyes glanced at the staircase.

“Do you want to see our selection upstairs? They’re all very good and helpful, some are entertaining,” Harry smiled. “I’m Harry by the way, what’s your name?”

“Dennis,” the small boy said.

“Well Dennis, follow me,” Harry smiled. He turned around and glanced back to make sure that the young teen was following him. Dennis walked meekly, glancing around until they reached the staircase. Harry turned to the boy, “Would you like to go first?” he asked, stepping to the side. “I promise nothing up there bites.”

Dennis looked at Harry hesitantly, before looking up. With a final glance over his shoulder, he stepped on the first step, slowly going up the spiral staircase until the two of them reached the second floor. Harry smiled and slowly showed Dennis all the sections, from fiction to non-fiction to the large self-help section which tackled every possible subject a questioning queer would ask for. He was patient, and offered his favorites when asked, and when they were done, Dennis smiled widely at Harry, his arms full of a pile of books. “Thank you!” he said, “I want them all but…”

“You’re a first timer,” Harry smiled, “and because of the subjects of those books, we have a special deal.”

“Really?” Dennis asked.

Harry nodded, “Sixty percent off all LGBT self-help and informational books.”

“That’s—thank you!” Dennis gasped. His eyes looked shimmering as though he was on the verge of crying. Harry smiled equally as happily, and escorted the boy to the register and, after Dennis paid for everything, Harry talked with the small teen as he escorted him to the storefront, and held the door open for him. “Have a good day, Dennis,” Harry smiled. “And good luck!”

“A songbird, and a diligent worker,” a voice chuckled. Harry turned around to see Tom Riddle standing very close, smiling down on him with his hands in his pockets. “Hello Harry, how have you been, my songbird?”

“T-Tom!” Harry said, needing a moment to remember the man’s name. “What are you doing here?”

“Shopping,” Tom answered easily. “I’ve heard of this store with a rather prominent gay flag and decided to see it for myself during my lunch.”

“Ohh,” Harry said, he didn’t know why he felt himself blushing. “W-Well, let me know if you need any help.”

“Harry,” Tom purred, “now that I see that you work here, I was hoping that you would give me a personal sell’s pitch, little songbird.”

“O-Oh, I guess that’s fine,” Harry said, looking around, “Uhh what do you want to look at?”

“Do you have an adult section?” Tom asked with a serious face. “An expansive homosexual adult section.”

“O-Ohh,” Harry bit his bottom lip and looked around. “I uhh, sure.” He cleared his throat and turned, leading Tom once more to the spiraling staircase. Up on the second floor, to the side of the main room, was a doorway with a curtain. “Through there,” he blushed.

“Come little songbird,” Tom commanded, and he walked in front of Harry towards the curtained doorway. Harry hesitated, but followed once Tom turned back and gave him a sharp look.

Through the curtain was a smaller room with lower shelves, all full of the more adult and erotic subjects of gayness. Tom glanced around and went to the BDSM section. “Tell me, pretty songbird, what is your experience with kink,” he said conversationally.

“N-None,” Harry blushed. _Why is he asking me questions like this—and why am I answering?_ He panicked mentally.

“So innocent,” Tom muttered. “I prefer Domination myself, having my subs bound with rope, kneeling hopelessly with no control. Their nipples are clamped, obviously, and their cocks hard and bounded. WHen I am in a sadistic mood, electric play, along with wax and water play is introduced, but the main element is that I have control, and my word is law.” He glanced back at Harry, “Does that sound interesting, songbird?”

Harry could only nod as he tried his best to discreetly press his thighs together, his dick slowly swelling. Tom smirked at that, and turned back to the books, walking slowly as he browsed. “I’m open to other types of play as well,” he mused. “Right now, I’m looking for a boy to settle down with. Someone to train and love.”

“Oh really…”

“Yes, Harry,” Tom said, picking up a book. “What about you?”

“I don’t know,” Harry said awkwardly. “I uhh—I date—”

“Hooking up with people does not count as dating,” Tom said.

“Excuse me!?” Harry said, crossing his arms and giving Riddle a glare, “It is none of your business if I’m hooking up or not—”

“You are young,” Riddle said, “it is good that you are experimenting, but hooking up does not count as dating, and whatever hole you have inside you, I can assure you that your hook-ups lack the girth to fill it properly.”

Harry stared at him gobsmacked. “I—that is none of your—”

“I mean,” Riddle continued, “if you did find that person who could adequately fill your hole, you wouldn’t still be looking around.” Harry felt insulted. He opened his mouth to yell at Riddle, but the man turned around quickly and grabbed Harry’s chin, pulling the young man closer, “So, I would like a try,” he purred.

“What?”

“A date, Harry,” Tom Riddle smiled. “One simple date. Tomorrow night.”

Harry was speechless. He stared at the man in front of him. “N-No,” he said, shaking his head. He took a large step back and cleared his throat. “No,” he repeated.

“Harry,” Tom said, staring down at him.

“You can’t just insult me and ask me on a date in the same breath,” Harry said, regaining his mind. “It’s none of your business if I fuck around or not—we don’t know each other Riddle.”

“I see,” Tom said, looking disappointed. “I wanted this date to get to know you,” he sighed. He shook his head slightly and leaned carefully against the display behind him. “Well, I am not one to give up, little songbird. So instead, I would ask that we meet up tomorrow for lunch, a set time where nothing can happen, I assure you.”

“Lunch,” Harry repeated cautiously, still looking at Riddle with suspicion.

“Yes,” Tom chuckled, “Believe me Harry, if I wanted to try any of the things I’ve just mentioned, it will take far much longer than an hour.”

For some reason, Harry felt a little relieved. “Just eating and talking,” he said.

“Just eating and talking,” Tom nodded, “I want to know you better, little songbird, and I want you to know me better as well.”

Harry made a long humming noise as though lost in thought. He was silent, mulling over the options and gambles, before giving a hesitant nod, “Okay,” he said, “Okay, yeah… tomorrow for lunch.”

“Excellent,” Tom smiled, “then I will pick you up then.”

Harry nodded, his heart beating furiously as Tom turned back around, browsing the section and picking out a couple more books before leaving, Harry following him. Tom led Harry to the register, and placed the books on the table, along with a credit card. Harry rang him up and as he reached over to return the card, Tom grabbed Harry’s wrist and kissed his hand. “I cannot wait to see you again, little songbird,” he whispered.

“HEY!”

Sirius ran out of nowhere towards the two. The shock caused Tom to let go of Harry’s hand as he turned to the older man. “Yes?”

“What do you think you’re doing, touching my apprentice like that?” Sirius demanded.

Tom just gave a charming smile, “I was just kissing my little songbird goodbye,” he said, “we’ve just finished setting up a small lunch date, isn’t that right Harry?”

“Uh—yeah,” Harry nodded. “We did.”

“Hmmm,” Sirius said, looking between the two, “and how old exactly are you?” he asked.

“Twenty-nine,” Tom answered. “I turn thirty on December thirty-first.”

Sirius just nodded, “Well, in that case Harry’s lunch is from one to two,” he said. “And I will be keeping tabs.”

“Of course,” Tom nodded. He turned to Harry, “I will see you tomorrow, little songbird. Thank you for your suggestions,” he lifted the bag for emphasis and give a final look, left the bookstore. As soon as the door closed behind him, Tom pulled out his phone and dialed a number as he went to a black car parked directly in front. “Lestrange,” he said, getting in, “give me an update with the foreigners.”


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Bellatrix Lestrange hated driving. She really did. It wasn’t because she was a bad driver, she thought she was a bloody good one, rather it was because she hated driving when there are other people on the road. They get in the way. They drive too slow. They call the cops on her. They look like annoying targets with nothing better to do than to just drive forty-fucking-five miles when she is trying to do ninety because she had to deal with some Italian assholes.

So, it was rather conservative to give a wild guess that, as she zoomed down the long highway that led away from their city, Bellatrix Lestrange was angry. Especially with her current company. Next to her was her husband, Rodolphus, and his brother Rabastan along with Goyle were sitting behind them. And Goyle would not shut up.

“What sort of colors do you think our Lord would like for the wedding?” he asked the occupants. “I’ve been talking with my wife about it last night—now I wanted to go for a traditional white for his wife—spouse uhh husband, whatever you call him—but then I got to thinking that our boss ain’t really a traditional sort of person, is he?”

 _Please don’t answer that idiot,_ Lestrange begged mentally as she swerved to cut in front of a slow idiot.

“I don’t know,” Rabastan said earnestly, “He always shows up in black in our meetings, though one time I did see him wear this deep purple shirt.”

“It was blue,” his brother answered.

“Huh?”

“The shirt was blue—he wore a blueish purple shirt during that meeting, you know the one right after we killed that Lockhart guy?” Rodolphus said, looking back over his shoulder. “You remember, we hanged him upside down and cut off everything he loved about his body.”

“Oh yeah! I remember that,” Rabastan chuckled. “Why did we kill him again?”

“I don’t know, it was a couple years ago. Anyway, that was when he wore that blueish purple shirt. It wasn’t blue or purple it was both.”

“Is that even a real color?”

“I think so,” Goyle said, “I think it’s called Periwinkle. Anyway, I’m talking more about the dress for the guy he’s going to marry—what is his name again?”

“Harry Potter,” Rabastan sighed, “he’s got Flint tailing the boy.”

“I also heard he and the Potter boy got a date today too,” Rodolphus said.

“Really!?” Goyle gasped. “Oh, that is exciting, isn’t it Bellatrix? I need to talk with the boss soon then, start talking about specifics for the dress—would he want a flat dress or frills or maybe—”

“Maybe you all can shut the fuck up before I slam this car into the nearest wall!” Bellatrix Lestrange yelled furiously.

There was an awkward silence among them. The female Lestrange smiled at the silence and continued to drive as her husband pulled out his phone. A couple moments later he glanced back and said, “Well shit, there is periwinkle,” and showed the phone to his brother and Goyle.

They were to meet with the Italians near a harbor warehouse. As Bellatrix pulled in, she and the others saw that the Italians were already waiting, all wearing white suits. “Let’s hope one of them speaks English,” Bellatrix sighed. “Goyle, there’s an ice cooler in the trunk, get it. Our return present is in it.”

“Yes ma’am,” Goyle squeaked out, still afraid from her outburst. The four of them exited the car, and Goyle went immediately for the trunk. The Italians all moved with suspicion, but Bellatrix just smiled and waved, walking up to them with her hands open to show that none of them were armed. “Any of you speak English?” she yelled out.

One of the men stepped forward, “I do,” he said.

“Oh thank god they finally learned—hello, who are you?” Bellatrix asked, her brother-in-law and husband standing by her sides.

“Who are you, to doing a man’s work?” the Italian man sneered, “shouldn’t you be home being a good wife?” He said something in Italian and the men behind him laughed.

Lestrange sighed and took off her sunglasses. She held them up, and her husband took it wordlessly. “Little boys really need to learn a lesson,” she sighed. “Goyle, give me the cooler please?” she held out her hand in a demanding way. The chubby man nodded and handed Bellatrix the ice cooler before stepping back. She opened it and held it close to her, cradling the container with one hand as she looked at the Italian in front of her.

“You know, I was going to be nice an give this back to your people, as a sign of good fate and stuff, but now I’m kind of thinking that I want to make it a matching set, what do you think?” she asked. Her free hand went into the cooler and pulled out a severed hand, pale and slightly deformed. “I have to admit that this wasn’t my best work but you Italians, you’re just so squirmy when you’re screaming.” She laughed and dropped the hand back in casually.

“What the fuck you think you’re doing, you bitch?” the Italian man demanded. “Threatening—”

“Informing,” Bellatrix interrupted. “I am informing you on what will happen if you and your sausage-brained idiots think to step in on Hogwarts. The city is ours, Hogwarts belong to the Death Eaters, and don’t you dare forget it.”

She threw the cooler at the man. It flipped and fell on it’s side, ice and the hand spilling out and sliding towards him. “That was all,” she smiled and turned back to the car. The other three followed and got back into the car. Bellatrix pulled out and gave the Italians one final way goodbye before driving away. Once the warehouse was out of sight, she looked at the three men and said, “You three are idiots for thinking Periwinkle is for a wedding dress. Potter’s dress is going to be red, white, or emerald.”

“Emerald?”

“Yes, it is Mr. Riddle’s favorite jewel and color. Now the three of you will stay fucking quiet until we are back in Hogwarts,” Bellatrix warned.

Harry found himself nervous for his lunch date with Tom. He wore nothing special, just his regular work clothes, but still as his lunch hour began, Harry found himself texting Draco and Blaise.

_Harry: I feel so anxious what if he hates what I’m wearing?_

_Blaise: Isn’t this just a lunch thing? Relax son._

_Draco: You should have told us if you felt this way, I would have let you borrow my clothes._

_Harry: I don’t want to look like a hooker on my date!_

_Draco: I thought this wasn’t a date._

_Harry: Shut up!_

_Blaise: No fighting boys, Daddy doesn’t want to read it. Anyway Harry, just take deep breaths. Everything will be fine, babe. Just be yourself._

_Draco: I still find that guy weird._

_Blaise: Draco, shut it. You’re not helping._

_Draco: Make me Daddy._

“Hello songbird.”

Harry jumped and looked up from his phone to see Tom standing over him. The older man was smiling at him, wearing an expensive black collarless suit and green tie. Harry felt inferior wearing jeans and a shirt. “H-Hi Tom,” he stuttered. He shuffled nervously, looking at Tom’s clothes once more before glancing at himself.

“You look beautiful today Harry,” Tom smiled, “how long is your lunch?”

“An hour, I have to be back by two,” Harry said.

“Wonderful that’s plenty of time,” Tom smiled. He offered his hand, and Harry found himself accepting it willingly. Tom held his hand tightly and pulled him around the counter and out of the store. “There’s a small place I know around here that’s perfect,” Tom smiled, “come along.” He led Harry to a black car in front of him, and held the door open. “After you,” he said.

Harry blushed as he slid in, Tom following suit. In the front was a man around his age, wearing a white suit. “Hello,” Harry said a little awkwardly.

“Harry, this is a worker of mine, Marcus Flint. Marcus, this is Harry Potter,” Tom said. “Take us to the small Italian place I like.”

“Yes sir, Mr. Riddle,” Marcus said. “It is a pleasure, Mr. Potter.”

“Umm... you can call me just Harry,” Harry said awkwardly.

“Very well Harry,” Flint smiled. He nodded slightly into the rearview mirror and started the car. As he pulled out, Tom gotten Harry’s attention once more.

“Flint has been a very good worker for me, he has been working for me about three years now,” he said.

“You’ve been good to me and my husband, sir,” Marcus said. Tom just smiled in response. “I always put the needs of my employees first,” he said, as if he was speaking at a campaign. “I find that they produce extraordinary work when their wants and needs are beyond met.”

“I never took you to be that kind of boss,” Harry hummed. Tom smiled down at Harry.

“My sweet songbird, I always give what is deserved, and spoil when spoiling is needed,” he purred. Harry found himself blushing once more. _This is just a lunch,_ he had to remind himself as his hand slowly edged to meet Tom’s.

The older man smiled softly and grasped it. “Tell me about your day,” he said gently, and the car ride was filled with Harry’s voice as he recounted his morning.

Flint pulled over in front of a small red brick building with a couple tables outside full of patrons. It looked a mixture of middle and upper class prestige, and Harry relaxed when it hit him that they weren’t going to some ultra-fancy restaurant. Tom smirked at the relaxed boy and opened the door, holding his hand out for him. This restaurant was his, naturally. The owners were in his pocket, and had to obey. The outside had small triangular flags of whites, reds and greens, and the white door was open to a comfortable wooden interior.

“Mr. Riddle!” an old man said, practically falling over himself to run up to him. “I had the call—y-your table is ready, s-sir!”

“Thank you Anthony,” Mr. Riddle said, “come on songbird,” he smiled at Harry, and pulled him through the small bistro towards a table with a fresh white cloth spread over it, two fancy-looking plates and water-filled glasses. It was right against the window, the sunlight filtering in.

“You have your own table?” Harry asked.

“Of course,” Tom smirked, “I’ve helped the owners with a certain… situation years ago. This was their way of thanking me.”

“That’s sweet of you,” Harry smiled. Tom nodded and silently pulled a chair out for Harry, allowing the younger boy to sit first before sitting himself.

“Proper manners is something that is dying in our generation,” Tom smiled in a way of explanation. “It does not matter if this is a date or an outing, my songbird, I intend to act the proper gentlemen, like all men should.”

“And what does that make me, the danty girl?” Harry asked.

Tom laughed, “You are the furthest from a girl, Harry,” he said before having a thoughtful expression, “although if you like wearing dresses I’ll encourage it.”

Harry blushed a vivid red and cleared his throat. “I never thought about it,” he admitted, “but I’m open to almost anything.”

“I’ll remember that,” Tom smiled. “But I want to know more about you, before we talk about that stuff.”

“Of course,” Harry nodded.

“Do you live with your two friends at the gym, or with your parents?” Tom asked.

“I live with Draco and Blaise,” Harry said. “My parents live in a cottage in Godric’s Hollow. Draco, Blaise and I have been friends for a long time, and just followed each other throughout school.”

“You’re in school?”

“Mmhmm, I’m an English Major, yes I know it’s a waste of money like everyone says,” Harry said, rolling his eyes.

“I don’t think that,” Tom said, “In fact when I went to college, I had an English minor. Although I did went in for Business.”

“Yeah, my aunt and uncle were angry that I went in for English, and ‘not something useful’ like my uncle says, but my parents support it and that’s all that matters,” Harry said.

“Good for them,” Tom smiled. Two menus appeared but Tom made sure the waiter stayed, “I’m just getting a salad, Harry, what about you?”

“A salad sounds good,” Harry nodded, he bit his lower lip, “can I also get garlic knots?” he asked hesitantly.

“Of course,” Tom chuckled. He looked at the waiter, “You heard him, we’ll have two Chicken Caesars and garlic knots.”

“Y-Yes sir!” the waiter said and went away.

“What about you Tom?” Harry asked, “what were your parents like?”

“I don’t know,” Tom said, “I grew up in an orphanage.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t—that was horrible of me—”

“Harry, relax it’s fine,” Tom said soothingly. He reached out and grabbed Harry’s hand, rubbing his thumb across Harry’s knuckles. “You don’t need to be ashamed around me.”

“Alright,” Harry nodded. His heart was beating fast. He couldn’t keep thinking straight as he felt Tom’s hand on his. He looked up only to once again meet Tom’s dark mysterious eyes, and like the first time he saw them he felt as though he was falling. But he didn’t feel afraid. In fact, a small part of him wanted to fall, and to keep falling forever, for as long as he looked into Tom’s eyes. Tom was talking, his voice calming and authoritative and yet his eyes, they moved with such emotion, fury, jealousy, amusement but never regret as he talked about his childhood. Words slipped into Harry, filling him up with Tom’s voice, embracing him in a murmur of letters and whispers but nothing stuck, nothing kept still as Harry fell deeper and deeper and deeper.

“Were you paying attention?” Tom asked with an amused chuckled.

Harry snapped. He looked around to notice that their food was there. Tom was still holding his hand. “Sorry,” Harry blushed.

“Don’t worry about it songbird,” Tom chuckled. “As I asked before, I wanted to know what you wanted to do with your English degree.”

“I would like to publish my book,” Harry said. “I know, cliché but still, it’s been a dream I had since I was a teenager.”

“Interesting, can I ask what it is about?” Tom asked.

Harry blushed, “Sure but umm just don’t laugh. A teenager lived an ordinary life found himself thrust into a war that he never knew about. He was expected to fight and kill this Dark Lord, but upon their first meeting, the teen falls in love with the Dark Lord instead. He has his friends on one side of the war, and his lover on the other. He had to choose who he would betray, and who he would unite with, and in the end, he stops the war out of love, marrying the Dark Lord and bridging the two sides together.” He waited, wincing for the inevitable laughter. But it never came.

“Falling in love with your villain, interesting,” Tom hummed.

Harry blushed. “When I was growing up, a lot of my first crushes were villains. Gaston, Clayton, Sebastian from _Cruel Intentions_ …” Harry licked his lips, embarrassed.

“So in order to win your heart I have to act villainous? Is that what you’re saying, little songbird?” Tom chuckled. He leaned forward over the table until he was right against Harry’s ear, “If that is the case, little songbird, I’ll happily accept your challenge,” he whispered. His breath blew hot in Harry’s ear, and a moan grew in the back of his throat.

Tom chuckled and leaned away back to his seat. “We should start eating,” he said casually and picked up his fork. It took Harry a while to control his blush to a more controllable level and started to eat as well. There was silence for a couple minutes before Tom said after he drank some water, “If you want, I have some connections to a publishing office or two. I will admit, a lot of people will not like your lead loving his villain, and it being gay, but I am sure there will be someone to publish it.”

“Thank you but I want to try it out on my own first,” Harry smiled. “I simply can’t accept something as huge like that.”

Tom looked disappointed only for a second. “Understandable,” he said, “To be honest, I would hate to have a lover who isn’t self-motivated and willing to work for his goals.”

“Ohh, well, I hate just taking stuff,” Harry admitted. “When Draco signed us up to that gym we met, I spent an entire month yelling at him. He refused to let me pay for my subscription to the gym. But we came to an agreement.” He smiled ruefully. “He pays and I do a bit more chores around the house. Not that I mind, I actually like cleaning up somewhat.”

Tom nodded, ideas of having Harry dressed up in his head.

“Not that any of us are slobs, so there isn’t much to clean,” Harry chuckled.

“That’s good,” Tom chuckled. “I admit that I like keeping clean as well, but I have moments when I’m very dirty.”

“I can guess that,” Harry chuckled.

“Can I ask a slightly perverted question, Harry?” Tom asked, his voice sounding surly. Harry blushed and nodded gently. “What is the dirtiest you’ve ever been?” he asked.

“Ah,” Harry said, he didn’t look embarrassed or disturbed by the question. “I was fisted,” he said casually.

Tom raised an eyebrow and chuckled, “How cute,” he mewed. Harry couldn’t help but smile, he glanced around and asked, “Can we uh sit next to each other?”

“I’ve been waiting,” Tom said. He stood up and moved his chair so that he was right next to Harry. Their hands went together again, and Harry looked up at Tom. “I thought this was going to be just a lunch,” he said.

“It is,” Tom smiled, “you control this,” he lifted their held hands. Harry nodded in agreement. “What’s your business like?” Harry asked suddenly. “What is it called?”

“Riddle Inc. Boring name but practical,” Tom said. “You don’t want to listen about it, it’s all very boring. You and your book and dreams, that is much more interesting Harry.”

Harry blushed and gave a smile. “I still want to learn about you,” he admitted.

“I’ll tell you everything,” Tom promised, “and teach you anything you want to know. You already know that my employees love me, I treat them all as my own children at times. Especially Marcus Flint.” He gave a chuckle, “The poor boy was at the end of his ropes, it was just him and his boyfriend, both kicked out of their homes. I took them in, taught Marcus what he needs to know, and now both of them are doing brilliant. His husband is actually a professional soccer player now.”

“Really? That’s amazing!” Harry smiled. He leaned in to Tom and wrapped an arm around the man. “I guess that means you’re a good Daddy,” he chuckled.

Tom patted Harry’s head, “Is that what you want boy?” he asked, “want me to be a good Daddy?”

Harry gave a humming moan in reply. _I have him,_ Tom thought victoriously. He petted Harry’s hair and down his back. “My sweet songbird,” he purred, “you have to earn me. But I’ll give you a small prize to last you until you’ve earned your place. He tilted Harry’s head up and leaned forward, pressing his lips gently against Harry’s. Now was the time to be sweet, loving and innocent. Later, when the boy is further in his hands, will Tom begin his corruption.

Harry smiled in the kiss and his eyes fluttered as they parted, “Tom,” he whispered with a need that sent Tom’s heart soaring.

“Next time, my pet,” Tom whispered. Harry just nodded and laid his head on Tom’s chest. Harry mewled as Tom petted his hair. Silently, Tom motioned for their table to be cleaned and paid for their lunch. “Come along songbird,” he said gently, “time to go.”

Harry nodded and stood with Tom, holding his hand strongly as they left the bistro and back into the car, where Marcus was waiting for them. “Bring us back to Marauders,” Tom ordered.

“Yes, sir,” Flint nodded, and he drove away.

When Harry left the car in front of his job, his heart was singing. He kissed Tom’s cheek and waved Marcus goodbye. He was humming when he returned, much to Sirius’ amusement.

“Had a good date, pup?” Sirius smirked.

“The best!” Harry sang, “He felt different, a great different,” he smiled. “I actually have another date with him—I’m actually really excited about it!”

“Excited?” a voice said. “Harry, the only man you’re supposed to be excited about is me.” A hand grabbed his wrist and Harry was forced to turn around only to be face-to-face with Cormac McLaggen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So.... what color dress should Goyle's wife make for the wedding? I'm thinking rainbow.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slight noncon in the beginning so look out for that if that is worrying you. Nothing happens tho.

Chapter 5

Cormac’s grip on Harry’s wrist was iron tight. Harry tried to pull away, but the older man was far stronger. Not caring who saw, Cormac pulled Harry out of the bookstore, and down the small alleyway between Marauders and an apartment. Harry struggled with each step, clawing and scratching at Cormac’s arm.

“Shut up!” Cormac barked. “Stupid slut, so fucking hungry for cocks when he knows it’s my cock that he needs.”

“Let go of me!” Harry commanded. When they stopped, he immediately kicked McLaggen’s dick and balls. The man grunted and bent slightly, but he kept his hold tight on Harry. He chuckled and shook his head, “Oh Harry, you are going to wish you did not do that.” He pushed Harry’s head against the walls, his free hand pushing pressure on Harry. He forced himself on Harry’s backside and rubbed a growing erection against Harry’s ass, “You moaned like a bitch the last time we fucked,” Cormac growled, “now I wanna hear you scream again, slut.”

“No—no please don’t Cormac,” Harry begged, tears forming as the situation settled in his mind. Nobody was going to help him. In the street ahead, all Harry saw were passersby who did not even look down the alleyway.

“Mmm that’s it bitch, beg for me,” Cormac moaned, thrusting against Harry again, “you love big fat cocks, so now you’ll feel a real man’s cock.” He moaned in Harry’s ear, nibbling it as he continued to push his clothed cock on Harry. He forced Harry’s hand between them, pressing it against his hard cock, “You feel that bitch? That’s going up your hole now and forever. Gonna fuck you till you’re nothing but an obedient mindless bitch. I know you want that, Harry.” He guided Harry’s hand into his pants, and Harry cried when he felt the hot hardness. “Touch me babe—"

Harry screamed at the whirling buzz of a gunshot. Shaking Harry glanced over to see Marcus Flint standing at the mouth of the alleyway. In his hand was a small pistol, trained at both of them. “Get off, or the next one won’t miss,” he threatened.

“Y-yo there’s no need to freak out like that!” Cormac said, jumping back from Harry, his hands held high. “We were just having an argument—wasn’t that right babe?”

“Marcus,” Harry said, dazed.

“Get over here Harry,” Marcus commanded, his pistol trained on Marcus. Harry did not need to be told twice. He ran to the taller man, standing slightly behind him, one hand holding onto Marcus’ shoulder. The blond switched hands so he was holding his weapon with one hand. “Talk about a stroke of luck,” Marcus sighed, “I actually wanted to check out the upstairs section of your store, and I thought I heard crying. Did he do anything to you, Harry?” Marcus reached up and bended his arm to pet Harry’s head. Harry relaxed under the fingers.

“Yes,” he breathed out.

Marcus’ grip on his gun tightened. “I see,” he said coldly. “I will be right with you Harry, go back inside and sit in the office. I’ll make sure that the police get this bastard, and then I’ll come back and check on you.”

“Okay,” Harry nodded. Marcus gave him a final pet, combing his fingers through Harry’s hair. “Go,” he ordered.

Harry ran away, disappearing back into the shop. “Finally,” Marcus sighed, he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a silencer, which he causally attached to his gun. “As for you...” he turned to McLaggen, who was scared stiff. Marcus aimed his gun at his legs and with two swift soft pops, the young man fell to the ground, screaming at his bleeding legs. Marcus worked quick, first he rushed to the downed abuser, stuffing his mouth with a nearby cloth from the garbage. “Don’t move,” he chuckled, and pulled McLaggen to behind the dumpster before going to fetch his car. The alleyway was big enough for it to fit, barely, and Marcus opened the trunk. Inside was a folded blanket, ropes, and a proper gag. He spread the blanket out on the trunk and took the gag and rope.

“Don’t scream,” he said, holding the cloth in McLaggen’s mouth. “This gag smells nice compared to the trash in your mouth. All I want to hear is ‘Thank you Sir’ when I remove the cloth, otherwise I’ll force it deeper and you’ll choke. Understand?”

Now crying and deeply blushed, Cormac nodded. Marcus pulled the cloth out and the wiry-haired man gasped before saying, “T-Thank you Sir.”

“Good bitch,” Marcus smirked, and he forced the gag in Cormac's mouth, the phallic toy moving past his gag reflex. “No throwing up, my husband can take double this length no problem,” Marcus said, snapping the gag securely on the back of his head. He petted McLaggen and looked coldly down at the pleading eyes. “You know, you actually look kind of hot,” Marcus chuckled. He took the rope next and tied Cormac’s hands and legs together. Flint forced Cormac to his feet, “Now, be a good bitch and hobble to the trunk. I’m not carrying your bleeding, crying shit.”

Weeping against the gag, Cormac forced his feet to shuffle. It was hard, the rope was tight against his legs, and the bullet wounds right under his knees were bleeding. He stumbled after a couple steps. “Stupid idiot,” Marcus growled out and kicked Cormac. The crying man struggled to get to his feet and hobbled to the trunk. Once he reached it, Marcus pushed Cormac in. He made sure that the man was in fully and slammed the trunk. “Don’t even think of making a noise or you won’t even leave the trunk,” he warned, knocking the trunk a couple times. He got into the car and moved it back to his original parking space before pulling out his work phone. “Sir, I’m sorry to call you during your meeting, however I must inform you something about your future spouse.”

“Speak,” Tom commanded.

“He was just assaulted by a man. It was the same man I stopped in the park, he currently in my trunk tied and gagged. I’m about to go in and check on Harry and find out what the bastard did,” Marcus Flint said.

“Good, you have my permission. Find out everything you can and don’t you dare leave his side!” Tom hung up on Marcus and the young man sighed. He put the phone away and got out of his car.

He found Harry in the office in the middle of the bookstore. He was sitting with an older man with shaggy black hair while a man with sandy hair dealt with customers. He knocked on the office door, and both looked up. The man looked apprehensive, but when Harry nodded, he went to open the door.

“Hi, I’m Marcus Flint,” Marcus said.

“You the man who found Harry?” the man asked.

“Yes—” He was soon engulfed in a hug.

“Thank you,” the man said, “thank you. I’m Sirius, by the way, Sirius Black.”

“Of course,” Marcus nodded. Sirius let go of him, and Marcus stepped towards Harry, “are you okay?” he asked.

“No,” Harry answered truthfully.

“Go home,” Sirius said, turning to Harry, “Remus and I will handle the rest of the day.”

“But—”

“Go,” Sirius said firmly.

“Don’t worry, I already dealt with the police,” Marcus said, looking at the two of them. “Harry, I’ll drive you home.”

Harry looked like he wanted to protest for a moment but nodded. He untangled himself from his seat, and followed Marcus outside, Sirius walking with them, his hand on Harry’s upper back. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” Harry said in a small voice to Sirius, who nodded.

“Come on Harry,” Marcus said, his hand replacing Sirius’ on his back. He led Harry to his car, and opened the front passenger door for him. As Harry slid in, he glanced back, almost expecting Tom to be here.

“Where is Tom?” he asked.

“He has a meeting in there,” Marcus said, pointing to a nearby skyscraper. “I already called him, told him that I had a family emergency with my husband. I’m free for the day, and a replacement is on his way.”

“Oh, okay,” Harry nodded. “I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing?” Marcus asked.

“You’re losing the rest of the day’s work because of me,” Harry said.

“No I’m not,” Marcus chuckled. “And don’t you worry about me Harry, you are more important right now.” He leaned back in his chair and looked at Harry for a moment. Harry just nodded silently and curled himself on the seat as Marcus started the car. “Would you like music?” he asked softly.

“Yeah,” he nodded. A moment later, soft music played in the car and Marcus pulled away. Harry barely talked, only giving directions of when Marcus should turn. It was a short ride, and soon Marcus pulled in front of a stone apartment that was across the street of a college. He turned the car off and looked at Harry apprehensively.

Harry stared off for a moment then looked at Marcus, biting his lower lip. He looked hesitant, glancing between Marcus and the door. “Um... this is weird but...” his cheeks blushed, “I don’t want to be alone.”

“I understand,” Marcus nodded. He unlocked the doors and got out of the car, walked around, then open the door for Harry.

“It’ll won’t be for long,” Harry said awkwardly, “just until my friends come home.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll stay with you as long as you need,” Marcus smiled softly. Harry smiled back as Marcus helped him out of the car, his hand moving to his upper back. Harry led him inside, and they made their way to Harry’s home on the tenth floor. They moved to the couch in the main living area. Marcus sat in an old armchair while Harry curled on the couch.

“This will be hard, I know, but I need you to tell me what he did,” Marcus said softly. “Please Harry.”

Harry nodded and looked down at his hand. “He pushed me against the wall,” he said unemotionally, as though he was detached from everything around him. “He forced me there, pushing against me. He grinded against me, I could feel him grow against my butt. He took my hand and made me hold him clothed before shoving my hand into his pants. You came in as soon as I felt his dick.”

Marcus gave a soft sigh and nodded, “Okay, I’ll tell my friends in the police that,” he said. “Would you like some tea? I found that it helps comfort you.”

Harry nodded, “Yeah,” he said, “Draco keeps all our tea in the shelves,” he pointed at the cabinets that hung on the walls. Marcus nodded and walked to the cabinet, opening them until he found a mug and tea packets. He took a bag for peppermint tea and moved to the small kitchen to make it. Harry stayed where he was, and did not move until Marcus walked back around, holding the mug. “My husband always drank peppermint tea to calm down after horrible things happen, but they were never this extreme.”

“Thank you,” Harry said. He took a sip and looked up at Marcus. “What is he like?”

“Hmm?”

“Your husband,” Harry said softly.

“The sweetest himbo in the world,” Marcus smiled. “Oliver is a soccer player like I said. We met when we were teens and been together ever since.”

“That’s nice,” Harry nodded softly. “Draco Blaise and I were together since high school... well, friends at least. Then they started dating.”

“Is it weird?” Marcus asked, mentally noting that the Malfoy was just Harry’s friend.

“No, it just seemed natural, all three of us,” Harry smiled. “We hug each other all the time, I kiss their cheeks and call them dad and they call me their son. It might be weird to everyone else but that’s our friendship.” Marcus nodded at that.

Harry sighed and drank silently from his mug. He looked up at Marcus for a moment, before looking back at his mug. “Was he my punishment for being happy?” he asked softly. Marcus glanced up, Harry wasn’t looking at him. _Is he stuck inside his head?_ The mafia member wondered. “Tom was the first man to make me happy… was that wrong of me?”

Marcus decided to speak up, “It’s never wrong to be happy,” he said. “That bastard was being a sick bitch. But you don’t need to worry about him anymore, understand?”

Harry sighed and nodded. Marcus leaned forward and decided to change the subject. “Would you like to look at pictures of him?” he asked, “My husband.”

“Yeah,” Harry nodded. He opened up a little and allowed Marcus to sit next to him. As Marcus scrolled through his pictures, he felt a weight on his shoulder, and moved his arm to be around the boy, so he could more comfortably lean against him.

“I apologize for that interruption, Signore Auditore,” Mr. Riddle said. He was sitting in a very large office, sitting at a small table against a large window. Opposite him was a large Italian man with a receding hairline and glorious mustache. They both had cups of coffee in front of them, though there was a tense air between the two. “There was a familial emergency, and my driver had to leave immediately,” he said.

Signore Auditore nodded, “Emergency?” he repeated.

“My future wife to be,” Tom said, “He had an unfortunate run in, but I will deal with it afterwards.”

“I see, I must congratulate you on your wedding, but that does not solve or change this problem between us,” the Italian man said. “Your men chopped up one of mine.”

“Technically, it was my woman, Bellatrix, who chopped him up,” Tom said, smirking slightly, “however I believe that she was just doing you a favor.”

“A favor!?”

“Yes,” Tom chuckled. “That boy was an informant; he was talking left and right about your plans to move into my city to anyone who asked. Before we got to him, he was already boasting loud and drunk about your plan to steal one of my warehouses. As well as stealing one of my clubs, one of the adult ones with ‘the girls who has breasts bigger than my head’ I believe they were?” He chuckled at the look of surprise from Auditore. “I wonder, do you know what they call me?”

“Who? Those under or leading good lives?”

“Those who fear me,” Mr. Riddle said.

“Voldemort,” Auditore said, leaning in his chair.

“Yes, Lord Voldemort,” Voldemort corrected. He pulled up the briefcase next to his chair and opened it on his lap. “My word is law in the underground. And quite recently, I decided to put in a request.” He pulled out several large photographs. In it was a girl blindfolded and in various stages of undressed.

“She can be my newest attraction to that club you wanted, or she can return home,” Voldemort said.

“You—” Auditore began to curse in Italian, but Voldemort interrupted him.

“I must ask you to watch your language. Not only for your niece’s sake, but your nephew’s as well,” he pulled out another photo. In this a young man was completely naked, his skin bruised and severely lashed.

Auditore glared at Voldemort. “What are your terms?” he demanded.

“Your nephew will provide his services to me when required,” Voldemort said, “you will never think of ever moving into my territory, and maybe I might give you back your niece, although I cannot promise you that she will ever be the same.” He pulled out the final thing in his briefcase, a bag full of ice, inside was a severed middle finger.

Auditore became quickly enraged. His face turned red and he slammed an open fist on the table as he stood. “Who do you think you are coming into my business! Threatening my family! Do you know who I am you pale mother fucker? I AM MARIO FUCKING AUDITORE AND I WILL NOT BE TREATED LIKE THIS!” He roared in anger and in his rage, he threw the table to the side, the cups smashing on the ground, coffee spilling everywhere. “They! They are Auditore! And _WE_ will not be taken down so easily! You think this scares us? HA! Get out of my office! This city will be mine and when it is, everyone will laugh when they hear the name ‘Voldemort’!” He spat on the ground near Voldemort’s shoe.

“Such a shame,” Voldemort sighed. He closed his briefcase and stood up. He offered his hand for a handshake, but the Auditore did not move. Voldemort’s eyes turned cold as he withdrew his hand. “Then we will talk another time,” he said, and left the office.

Mr. Riddle waited until he was in the elevator to pull out his phone. “Bellatrix, the girl is yours to play with,” he said and hung up before immediately making another call. “Greyback, the boy is under your care,” he said, “Make sure he is ready in two weeks, I’m growing tired of dealing with this Auditore problem.”

“Yes, my lord,” a voice growled back, “he will be a killing machine when I’m done with him.”

“Good,” Voldemort hung up and sighed. With business done, he could relax and think of Harry. His mind wandered to their future wedding day. He wondered what dress his songbird will look best in, perfect emeralds or a scandalous ruby dress... he knew that underneath, the boy will be wearing clothes that mark him as Tom’s, but to everyone, he will have to look like the essence of purity. He did not give his backup driver a second glance as he got into his car. “The office,” he ordered and pulled out his phone.

Draco and Blaise came home a couple hours after Marcus brought Harry home. The two were still on the couch, Harry dozing silently on Marcus’s shoulder. “Who the fuck are you?” Draco demanded, his eyes glaring at Marcus.

“I’m sorry,” Marcus blushed, he looked over to Harry and tried to rouse him with his shoulder. “My name is Marcus Flint,” he said, “I work for Mr. Riddle, who Harry had a date with today.”

“So? Why are you here?” Draco demanded. Blaise joined him, glaring at the stranger that Harry was sleeping on.

Marcus’s eyes glanced away for a moment, “Some... thing happened after their date. I brought Mr. Riddle to his meeting nearby and was on my way to the bookstore to buy something for my husband when I saw Harry struggling with another man, McLaggen, I believe his name was.”

“Jesus Christ,” Blaise breathed, “please tell me that bastard didn’t—”

“I made sure that he didn’t hurt Harry, but I wasn’t fast enough that he didn’t... do things to Harry,” Marcus frowned. “He didn’t go fully,” he said, trying to save Harry some grace. “they were still clothed when I got to them. McLaggen is dealt with, I handed him to the police,” he lied easily. “I went in to check on him and drove him home. Harry didn’t want to left alone.”

“It’s true,” Harry said sleepily, blinking his eyes drowsily. “Sorry I slept on you,” he said to Marcus.

“It’s nothing to worry about,” Marcus smiled. He finally stood and stretched as Draco and Blaise relaxed. The two immediately went to Harry’s side and sat down on either side. Marcus watched their interactions for a while before chuckling softly, “I guess he wasn’t joking when he called you two his dads.”

“Somebody has to take care of him,” Blaise said. “Anyway, thank you for staying with him, and for saving him.”

“No problem,” Marcus said, “Now if you excuse me.” He nodded to the two of them and said, “I will see you tomorrow Harry, I still need to get some books for my husband.”

“Tell the himbo I said hello,” Harry yawned. Marcus snickered and nodded. He left and sighed, immediately calling his boss. It would be best to relieve his worries about Malfoy.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

The Riddle estate was far from the city of Hogwarts. It was a large mansion with gated walls that surrounded the estate and a large expansive garden. The house itself was an old home with odd angles and twisted spires. It held no warmth nor comfort to any who looks upon it, acting like a predator on the horizon that swallows all who come near. The windows were dark, offering no insight on the life inside, just as the stone and wooden sidings gave it an ancient, almost abandoned look. The home itself was in the Riddle family for countless generations, however, it only came into Tom Riddle’s possession only ten years ago after the sudden disappearance of his father and grandparents.

The Riddle estate is not a happy home. It offered no solace, no support, and no love, instead the ghosts that haunt it spread malice and despair to those who look for it. It was this home that Marcus Flint drove to after he left Harry with his roommates. It was an hour drive to reach the home, slowing down only when he reached the gates.

From the gate Marcus drove down an old road that led to a cul-de-sac that the Riddle estate surrounded. Three doors faced the road, and in front of the middle door, connected to a stone archway that pushed out of the house slightly, was Mr. Riddle himself. Marcus slowed to a stop in front of Mr. Riddle and parked the car. “He is in the trunk, sir,” he said as he got out of the car.

“Good, bring him to the basement,” Mr. Riddle ordered.

Marcus nodded but faltered, “Sir, technically he is a civilian, however.”

“A civilian who tried to molest a crime lord’s future spouse,” Voldemort said, his face growing cold. “Bring him downstairs.”

“Yes sir,” Marcus said. He moved to the trunk and unlocked it, opening it to see a still conscious Cormac McLaggen. The sheet under him was stained with his blood that bled from his legs, and he looked weak and almost delirious. “Come on big boy,” Marcus said, pulling the man out and over his shoulder. He followed his boss to the door, which led to a stone stairway that led deep underground. The basement was made of stone, with a couple cells pushed into the wall far from the stairs that led into the vast room. Torture tools and equipment filled the rest of the room, with one man sitting in a chair sharpening a long knife. An old sink sat next to the chair and table the man was sitting at, under it a metal bucket.

“My lord,” the man purred, “Here to see our guest?” he chuckled as he pointed to one of the cells. Inside was a handsome man wearing only a pair of underwear, his muscled and handsome body scarred by whips, long red lines crisscrossing across his chest and back.

“No, however we do have plans for our dear Ezio,” Voldemort said. “However, for now, we have a more pressing matter. Put our new guest in the chair, Flint.”

Marcus brought Cormac to a chair that sat in the middle of the room. The chair was old and wooden, with leather straps on the arms and legs. He threw Cormac onto the chair and strapped him in. “He already got gunshot wounds to his legs,” he said, turning to the man.

The man finally stood and gave a sadistic smile. He looked ragged, with wild hair and stubby facial hair that looked almost animalistic with his sharp teeth. “Greyback,” Voldemort ordered, “this guest here has tried to sully my blushing spouse.”

“Really? Now that just isn’t right, now is it?” Greyback said with a cold laugh. He stepped up to Cormac and pressed a finger against his forehead, “Eh, boy?”

Unfocused eyes struggled to look at Greyback as a weak groan escaped his lips. “Huh?”

Greyback laughed harshly and swung his hand, backhanding McLaggen. Voldemort walked up to the young man. He glanced at Greyback and said, “Wake him.”

Greyback chuckled and went to the sink. He picked up the bucket and filled it with cold water. Marcus frowned as he watched Greyback go back to McLaggen, and dumped the water on him. “Wake up you bastard!” Greyback yelled loudly.

McLaggen yelled at the shock of the cold water, his eyes opened wide and alert. “Where am I? What happened—you! You shot me!” He yelled when he saw Marcus. Flint shrugged and turned to his boss, “Is that all, sir?” he asked.

“Hmm yes, you’re dismissed,” Voldemort said, too focused on the man bound in front of him. Flint kept a stoic face as he left, leaving Lord Voldemort and Greyback with their new plaything. Voldemort stepped up to McLaggen’s and grabbed his hair, pulling his head roughly upwards. “Hello Cormac McLaggen,” he purred, smirking when he saw the fear in McLaggen’s eyes.

“Who—who are you? Why am I here?” McLaggen stuttered in fear, his eyes moving wildly from Voldemort to Greyback. “Oh god please whatever you’re angry about I swear we can work this out! Please—”

“Shut up!” Greyback growled, and kicked McLaggen’s legs, agitating the wound. His screams filled the room, and already, he was crying.

“What a softie,” Greyback chuckled.

“Indeed, you cannot even begin to consider yourself a man,” Voldemort said. He glanced at Greyback and held out his hand. Greyback gave him the knife he was sharpening. “In fact,” Voldemort continued, and he turned the knife downward, stabbing it down to Cormac’s pants. The blonde screamed as the blade tear through his clothes, only mere centimeters from his dick. Voldemort kept it there and pulled the knife towards him, ripping Cormac’s pants apart.

He grabbed the ripped cloth and pulled himself, fully revealing Cormac’s thighs and dick and balls. “Look at that!” Voldemort laughed cruelly, pointing the knife at the rather small genitals between Cormac’s thighs. “How can you expect to please anyone with such a small cock?”

“Stop it!” Cormac pleaded.

“Why... it seems almost a waste for you to have them,” Voldemort laughed as he slowly brought the knife towards them, Cormac’s member shrinking in fear. “Should I get rid of them for you?”

“No, no, no, please god no, oh god please no!” Cormac whimpered and stuttered in fear. Voldemort pushed the knife closer, laughing at Cormac’s high screams. His screams only elicited more cruel laughter from Voldemort and Greyback. Voldemort pressed the edge of the knife against Cormac’s member, and watched as his screams turned into whimpers and sobs. He moved the knife softly, grazing the skin but not cutting it, until the blade was fully away.

“Look at that, the bitch peed himself!” Greyback laughed as the yellow liquid dribbled from the member, staining the remainder of his pants. Voldemort smirked at that and gave the knife back to Greyback. “I think he will be of use to us,” Voldemort said. He patted McLaggen’s cheek a couple times before walking past him, heading to the occupied cell. Greyback followed.

“Oh?”

Voldemort smirked as he stood in front of the cell, “I need a killer, an assassin. Someone who is cleaner with his killings than any of my current employees. I think our friend here would do nicely,” he chuckled as he indicated to their prisoner, “and he will need a practice dummy don’t you think?”

There was a gasp from the chair, “Please, please no,” Cormac McLaggen cried out, “please I’ll do anything—I won’t talk about what I saw here please just don’t kill me!”

Voldemort smirked and rushed back to Cormac, grabbing his hair and roughly pulling his head up to meet his eyes. “Anything?” he asked.

“Yes, yes! Please,” Cormac cried, his body trembling with pure fear. He lost control of his bladder once more, and Voldemort’s nose only twitched slightly at the smell. He leaned forward until they were barely centimeters apart. “Leave Harry Potter alone,” he seethed, “this town is mine, you will not like what will happen if I hear you so much as looked at him again. Is that understood?”

Cormac whimpered and nodded his head, “Y-Yes!”

“Good,” Voldemort smirked, and punched Cormac’s stomach. The younger man whine and coughed, his head dropping. Voldemort turned to Greyback, “We will need bodies however unfortunately, we cannot use this one. He is a civilian, even if he is garbage.” He sighed and moved to the sink where he started to wash his hands. “Go out hunting for some of the Italian boys, we will have dear Ezio practice on them. And don’t try to sully his looks or his dick and balls. We want him broken, obedient, but still whole once we are done.”

“Got it,” Greyback growled, he turned to look at their prisoner, “Seems like you’re growing soft to me, I would have used that kid as practice anyway, and I could easily just rip them off and—” Voldemort was squeezing his throat before he could finish his sentence.

“Do not speak against me,” Voldemort warned. “Don’t forget, you are the mutt and I am your Master. Understood, dog?”

Greyback nodded and with surprising strength, Voldemort threw him to the floor. “Do as I say, or I’ll find another dog who knows how to obey,” he warned. He turned away from Greyback and went back to McLaggen, taking the leather binds off of him and pulling him roughly from the chair. Without a word, he dragged the man out of the basement, and threw him out into the street. “You!” he barked at a random guard, “take this trash to the nearest hospital. If he dies on the way, I’ll kill you.”

With the business done, Voldemort turned and left back inside his home.

Harry forgot the last time he had a ‘house date’ with Blaise and Draco. Draco refused to let go of him while Blaise prepared for the night. Pizza was ordered, and Netflix was on. They all wore only pajama pants, and Harry and Draco were covered by a large knitted blanket while Blaise was in the kitchen making smoothies. “You know, I’m going to kick your asses tomorrow in the gym boys,” Blaise said in a good natured tone.

“Shut up Daddy, we are doing this for our son,” Draco teased, winking at Harry, who nodded.

“Yeah, shut up Daddy,” he laughed.

Blaise walked in, his body muscled, and pecs well formed. “Honestly, you expect me to win when my boys team up against me?” he sighed, shaking his head. “Fine, no smoothies for you.” He walked back to the couch with only one cup in hand. As soon as he sat down, Harry stole the cup and gave it to Draco, who shared a drink with Harry. “Why do I bother?” Blaise sighed, shaking his head. He ruffled Harry’s hair and kissed Draco before going back to their kitchen. Draco’s phone buzzed, and he looked at it, “Pizza’s here,” he announced.

“I’ll get it,” Harry said. He tried to get up, but Draco held onto him tightly. He huffed, “I’ll be fine Draco, I’m just going downstairs.”

Draco frowned. “What if the pizza guy tries to assault you?”

“Then I’ll kick his nuts and won’t leave a tip,” Harry said.

“Come on Dray, let him go. Harry’s a big boy,” Blaise called out from the kitchen. Draco huffed but released Harry from his tight grip. Harry stood from the couch and stretched before going to the door shirtless.

“You forgetting something?” Blaise said.

“No,” Harry grinned, and left their apartment. He made his way down to the lobby, where a bored teenager was waiting. “Hello,” Harry smiled, causing the teenager to blush. Harry couldn’t help but giggle at the teen’s blushing and gave him a nice tip. When he got back to his apartment, Blaise and Draco already had the table in front of their couch set up. Three fruit smoothies were next to three empty plates, with a large bare space waiting for the pizza.

“Did it go alright?” Draco asked.

“Yes Dad,” Harry said, looking a little annoyed. “All that happened was that I made a teenager blush.”

“Well he’ll be seeing you in his dreams,” Blaise joked. “Come sit with your daddies, I’m hungry!”

Harry rolled his eyes and sat between Draco and Blaise, setting the pizza box on the table, and opening it. Soon, they were eating while watching a weird documentary. “So, that guy was very nice,” Blaise said.

“Who?”

“The guy who stayed with Harry,” Blaise said to Draco. “What was his name again?”

“Marcus,” Harry answered, “He’s Tom’s driver.” He smiled softly, “and yeah, he’s a nice guy.”

“So, did you get his number?” Blaise smiled teasingly.

“Marcus’s no actually, but I’ll get it the next time I see him,” Harry shrugged.

“What about Tom’s?” Blaise asked suggestively. Harry blushed but shook his head. “What! You went on one date and don’t have his number?”

“No, he never gave it to me, and I never thought to ask him for his,” Harry said.

“What is his last name again?” Draco asked.

“Riddle, Tom Riddle,” Harry answered. Draco hummed and looked pensive for a moment.

“Tom Riddle,” he repeated, “What does he do?”

“He’s a businessman, I think,” Harry said, “he mentioned that he has a business called Riddle Inc.. Why?”

“Well he must be rich if he goes to our gym,” Blaise commented. Draco nodded, before frowning. “What’s the matter babe?” Blaise asked.

“Nothing, just remembering my father complaining about something the last time I visited him and mother,” Draco said. “A new upstart or something, some guy a bit older than us gaining a lot of money and power.”

“Could be him,” Harry said, “He told me a bit about his business, but I don’t know how long he had it.”

“Well how old is the guy anyway?” Blaise asked.

“Twenty-nine, he’ll be thirty in December, which is a long time away, so no Blaise, I am not dating another decade,” Harry said before Blaise could speak. The taller man just stuck his tongue out.

“I always knew you had a thing for older men,” he said instead. “Our little boy is becoming a Daddy-chaser, Draco!” Harry groaned while the two laughed. Harry threw a light punch at Blaise’s shoulder, but the young man only took it in stride. Harry then grabbed Blaise’s nipple and twist hard. “OW! Harry please!” Blaise winced.

“What’s the matter Daddy Blaise? Can’t handle a bit of a nipple kink?” Harry shot back, sticking out his own tongue.

“Hey—Draco, control him!”

“Nope.”

Harry laughed as he twisted Blaise’s other nipple. The dark skinned man gave another yelp of pain. “GOD! No wonder you’re a bottom Harry, you’re too rough with any foreplay,” he groaned. “Babe, kiss them and make them feel better.”

“Do that and I’m leaving,” Harry warned.

“NO!” Draco jumped. “Please no. …” He still looked completely scared, even though they were safe inside their home. Harry frowned, and looked between the two of them. “I’m getting a bit tired,” he confessed.

“Well it’s past midnight,” Blaise said, “We should start heading to bed.” Draco glared at Blaise and looked at Harry, still latching on. “Blaise,” he said carefully, “do you think that Harry could sleep with us? You know, like when we were young?”

“But then we would have to keep wearing clothes,” Blaise blinked, “besides, I think Harry would rather sleep in his own bed right Harry?”

Harry looked between the two of them and bit his lip. If he was honest, he was a little scared of going to bed alone. Not because of something that might happen to him, but because of what he would dream. If he was with Draco and Blaise, he was certain that they would chase away all of his bad thoughts and dreams. “I wouldn’t mind,” he said in a soft voice, “sleeping with you guys... if that is alright?”

Blaise sighed and gave a small smile, “That’s fine Harry, come on, you two get the bed ready and I’ll clean up.” The two nodded, and Draco held onto Harry even as the two moved to Draco and Blaise’s room. Not that Harry mind.

Their room was bigger than Harry’s and was an explosion of their personalities. Where Harry’s walls were bare, their walls had posters of their favorite singers and bands, pictures of themselves as well as a floor to wall mirror and television. Their bed thankfully was very large and the two got into the covers. “Are you sure you don’t mind, Harry?” Draco asked softly as they faced each other.

Harry nodded, “Yeah, this is for the best really. I don’t know what I’ll dream tonight…”

“Blaise’ll keep the bad ones away,” Draco smiled. Harry nodded and took his glasses off, placing them on the bedside table. A few minutes later, Blaise came in and he moved into the bed so that he was between Draco and Harry, holding onto them both as they rested on him. The lights were off, and Harry felt his heart and mind relax in his friends’ embrace. “Guys,” he said sleepily as his eyes began getting too heavy.

“Hmm?” It was Blaise.

“I love you,” Harry said.

“Love you too Harry,” Blaise yawned, “just sleep and forget about that bastard, alright? Think of Tom.” Harry nodded against Blaise’s chest and a few seconds later, he was fast asleep. “You too baby, stop thinking and go to sleep,” Blaise told Draco.

“Sorry,” Draco whispered, “it’s just that I can’t stop thinking about him.”

“McLaggen?”

“Riddle,” Draco said. “He sounds familiar, but I don’t know if it’s because he’s the guy my father is complaining about or if it’s just because of Harry.”

“Well that’s a tomorrow problem, right now you are supposed to be sleeping like our son here,” Blaise said, slowly stroking both boys’ heads. Draco looked as though he had more to say but a yawn overpowered his words.

“Fine,” he whispered, closing his eyes, “I’ll talk to father about it tomorrow then, love you Blaise.”

“Love you too baby,” Blaise said, kissing Draco’s head, both of them falling asleep.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

For over one hundred years, the Malfoys have been the head of a series of successful companies that helped Hogwarts grow from a simple town to the bustling city it is today. Sitting above it all, rich, powerful, and influential, was Lucius Malfoy, Draco’s father.

The headquarters of the Malfoy enterprise was the tallest building in the city, centered directly in the middle. It was a tall white skyscraper with walls made of windows, and on the top a giant golden M in a cursive script. It was on that floor where Mr. Malfoy’s office was, and where Draco visited the next day after class.

“Draco, it is unusually for you to visit unannounced,” Mr. Malfoy said, looking up from his expansive desk to look at his son. “What do I owe the pleasure?”

“Harry’s dating someone,” Draco said as he walked in. Mr. Malfoy chuckled, “Always must play the mother hen with him?” he asked, “Harry is an adult Draco, I am sure that whoever he is dating—”

“Father, do you know who Tom Riddle is?”

Mr. Malfoy’s eyes widened for a moment before turning into a scowl. “That nouveau rich,” he said. “A young upcomer who does not know rules of the game he’s playing. And ten years your senior. Harry is dating an older man?”

“Yeah,” Draco nodded, “and ever since they started it just felt like weird things is happening. Awful things.” His voice went soft and he frowned. He sat down in front of his father’s desk and looked up at the man. Mr. Malfoy nodded for Draco to continue. “Before Riddle, Harry tended to hook up with guys. He tried to hide it from Blaise and I but, we still know. One of them gotten too close to Harry, obsessive and… yesterday…” Draco shuttered and started to tell his father everything that happened yesterday.

Mr. Malfoy listened attentively, and when he was done, Mr. Malfoy asked, “What is it you want Draco? It is fortunate that Harry is okay, however what does this have to do with Riddle?”

“Marcus is Riddle’s driver, and Riddle just started to date Harry,” Draco explained. “I just want to make sure that this man is good for my Harry.”

Mr. Malfoy nodded and sighed, “So you want to use our investigator?” he asked.

“Yes! Um, please,” Draco said.

Mr. Malfoy leaned back and nodded, “Okay, you know his number, just tell him the details and where to report.”

“Thank you father!” Draco smiled. He jumped out of his chair and ran around the desk to hug his father. “I swear this will be quick work! I just want to make sure he’s good for Harry.”

“Of course,” Mr. Malfoy nodded, “I swear if I did not know you three better, I would assume that you are in love with Potter. But then again, you, Potter, and Blaise all had a strange relationship.”

Draco just smiled and chuckled. “Thank you father, I’ll call you and mother later,” he said, heading to the door, his phone already out.

“Marcus!” Harry smiled when he saw the man walk into his store. He ran from behind the counter and surprised the older man by hugging him.

“Hello Harry,” Marcus chuckled, “Uh, are you sure you should be working—”

“Marcus please,” Harry said, “I need this.” He pouted and his innocent look shattered any argument Marcus had inside him. “Let me be your worker here,” he smiled, “What do you need?”

“To check out your gay section,” Marcus said. Harry smiled and grabbed Marcus’ hand, pulling the young man to the spiraling staircase. “You’re going to love it,” Harry smiled, looking back at Marcus as they climbed, “We have a huge section—and an adult section that Tom looked at the last time he was here. That was actually where he asked me out.” He started to blush, and his smile grew embarrassed.

The sun’s light filtered through the pride flag came into view, and Harry stepped to the side to allow Marcus to take in the view as they reached the top of the stairs. Marcus gave a low whistle, “Harry, this is very impressive,” he said, looking down at him, “remind me to look around after I take a closer look at your more adult section.”

“Oh, that,” Harry said, blushing, “right… there’s no rainbows there.”

“As long as there’s handcuffs,” Marcus smirked, laughing at Harry’s blushing face. “Come on Harry,” he patted Harry’s back. He looked around for a moment, spying a curtained off section and headed towards there, Harry following. As they entered, Harry blushed again and muttered, “Why is it that both you and Tom want to head straight to the kinky stuff?”

“Because the kinky stuff is the best stuff, little Harry,” Marcus smirked. “So many perfect moments, perfect picture opportunities...” He laughed at Harry’s blush and turned around, “What? Is Little Harry a pure angel?”

“N-no… I’m not an angel,” Harry stuttered, “I’ve done k-kinky stuff before.”

“Hmm, shame,” Marcus shrugged, “if you weren’t the boss, my husband and I would have loved breaking you down. But anyway, I want to get a book for my husband, a kinky soccer book hopefully.”

“Oh! Sirius has us put the adult sports romance on that shelf over there,” Harry said, pointing to a wall with books stuffed with it. “It’s right next to our omegaverse stuff,” he motioned to a bigger shelf.

“Thanks, little bro,” Marcus said, ruffling Harry’s hair.

“Little... bro?” Harry repeated.

“Trying out nicknames till I find one I like,” Marcus shrugged, “We are going to see each other a lot, so why not be friends? Unless you—”

“NO! No, I want to be friends,” Harry said quickly, “it’s just that—a lot happened and it’s strange, we barely know each other but I feel like I’ve known you longer.”

“That’s just how things are somehow,” Marcus nodded, sounding wiser than his years. “Sometimes people meet, and they just connect, as friends, as lovers, as rivals. It’s a spark that just ignite their relationship that lasts beyond lifetimes. Or at least that is how Mr. Riddle explained it to me.” He went to the shelf Harry pointed out and skimmed through the contents, picking up a book once in a while to read the back. “I’ve never heard of any of these authors,” he mused.

“Most sell their books directly online, but Sirius worked out a deal to sell physical copies,” Harry explained. “We got big name authors up here, but we tend to put a focus on small time or beginning authors.”

“That’s sweet,” Marcus said.

Harry nodded and smiled, “One day I want to sell my book here,” he sighed, “but that won’t be for a long time. Tom offered to help of course but, I don’t know, it just feels like cheating. And I’m not even done with the first draft yet.”

“That sounds like Mr. Riddle,” Marcus smiled, “he is always quick to help those he care about, but I’m surprised he actually allowed you to say no. He hates that word.” He chuckled to himself and went back to browsing. Marcus picked up a couple books, one of them, Harry noticed, was a book on erotic knot tying, before going back to the generally gay section of the second floor. “That one is very sappy,” Harry said as Marcus picked up a book that was on a display table.

“Then it’s perfect for Oliver’s mom,” Marcus said, adding it to the pile. “Need to get her a birthday gift anyway.”

Harry nodded and surprised Marcus when he brushed up close, his hands placed over Marcus’ and he pulled the books from him, “I’ll carry them down, sir, you just follow me,” he said teasingly.

“You always such a minx?” Marcus chuckled.

“Maybe, or I’m starting to relax around you,” Harry smiled. “I call my best friends ‘Daddy’ after all.”

“Can’t wait to tell Mr. Riddle that,” Marcus said giving a low whistle. Harry blushed, “Please don’t.”

The two returned to the counter and Harry placed the books next to the register and started to scan the barcode. “How is Tom, anyway?” he asked.

“It’s only been a day and you miss my boss already?” Marcus asked.

“It felt longer,” Harry whispered. “I thought that he would… never mind.” He brushed off his sadness with a smile and told Marcus his price. He paid for it and as he took the bag, Harry’s hand shot out, “Can I see your phone for a moment?”

Marcus looked confused for a moment but slipped his phone out of his pocket. Harry’s hand moved quicker than Marcus ever saw, and the young man snatched it right out of Marcus’s hand.

“Hey!”

“Just adding my number, relax,” Harry smiled, he scrolled through Marcus’s contents, quickly finding Tom’s number listed as “Mr. Riddle” and memorized it before adding his own number. “See?” he smiled innocently.

Marcus laughed and took the phone back, laughing again when he saw that Harry put his contact information as Harry (Little Bro) “Okay you little thieving minx. I’ll text you soon then.”

“Have a good day,” Harry smiled and waved. As Marcus turned to leave with his bag, his view was obstructed by an older man with shaggy hair. “It’s you!” the man said, hugging Marcus, “I wanted to thank you again for all you’ve done yesterday for Harry.”

“No problem, uh… Sirius?” Marcus said, looking at the man, he did look familiar.

“Yes, and I hope you come back soon, Marcus,” Sirius smiled. “How about next week on Friday? The Queens are going to be here that day!”

“Already?” Harry groaned. He saw Marcus’s confusion and explained, “Drag Queens, from a nearby drag club. They come by once a month to help out and do a free show here. Mostly dress me up—you don’t have to come if you don’t want to.”

“They’re here all day Friday—but Harry’s dress up isn’t until four,” Sirius grinned. Marcus laughed, “I’ll think about it, I’ll have to talk to my boss about it first.” Harry’s blush deepened at the mention of Tom, but neither man ignored it as Sirius turned to pat Marcus’s shoulder. “That’s the spirit!” he cheered. “Goodbye again.”

Harry groaned and waited until Marcus was out of the store and Sirius went back to helping out their customers to pull out his phone.

Tom Riddle hated dealing with drugs. It was good money, yes, but also dirty and dangerous. He had to be sure to be especially tough on whoever is in charge of it, and any failures resulted in swift and fatal judgement that he always dealt out personally. Which was why he was in a small warehouse by the waters, sitting in a common steal chair as in front of him, three captives, knelt bound and gagged. They all looked haggard, wearing dirty clothes and holes and dirt on them. Their hair were all dirty, and from the looks of the one in the middle, they were just coming down from a drug high. He leaned towards the middle one, a woman, and sighed, “Pansy, why must you three fail me so?” Pansy tried to speak through the rag that was forced in her mouth, but all that came out were muffles.

Voldemort ignored this and leaned back. “Pansy Parkinson, Miles Bletchley, and Terence Higgs. I have given you three a second chance of life! I found you all desperate. Lost in the streets without a home, abandoned by your families. And this is how you repay me? I who keep you, teach you, feed you, dress you. I who did not shun you as the world have for what you are. I am especially disappointed in you, Ms. Parkinson.” He stopped for a moment, smirking slightly as tears pooled in Pansy’s eyes. “You three had simple jobs. Keep the supply of ecstasy into our city tight. Make sure every single gram of drug that enters Hogwarts stay where they need to stay, and away from those places that we have deemed forbidden. Schools, libraries, churches—anywhere where children gather, our business is not to be anywhere near them! And yet, my dear friends high up have told me of exactly that. Children getting high. Children overdosing. Children dying. All because they want a spoon full of cocaine. It was your responsibilities and yet you three have failed.”

With quick reflexed, Voldemort brandished a knife and sliced at Higgs’ gag. The cloth fell, and the young man took a deep breath, coughing. “Why did you all disobey?” Voldemort sneered, grabbing Higgs’ hair.

“We thought—we thought that you would like the extra money sir!” he yelled, his voice cracking. “We didn’t know that the kids were dying! We swear!”

“IDIOTS!” Voldemort roared, and his knife cut through Higgs’ throat. The junkie fell, choking on his own blood as he slowly died. Voldemort left him where he fell and moved to Bletchley. “Let us try this again,” he said calmly, cutting Bletchley’s gag and holding the bloodied knife towards the young man. “Why did you all think that you could ignore our rules? Our code, all for a little more extra money?”

Miles stared at the knife in fear, “Please my lord we weren’t disobeying we swear—someone told us to do it! We thought we were following your orders!”

“Oh really? _Someone_ told you to go against the rules that I have spent _my entire life_ upholding to sell drugs to children?” Voldemort sneered.

Bletchley whimpered and nodded. Voldemort’s sneer tightened, “You idiot, to think that I would change my mind so swiftly? Revoke my honor for money! To think that—to go through with that shows that you have no faith, no love in your lord, and thus you are useless to me!” Bletchley yelled and gargled as Voldemort thrust his knife into the man’s throat. He let go of the knife and watched as in his last moments, Miles Bletchley struggled fruitlessly to grasp the knife before falling dead, driving the knife deeper as he landed on its handle. Voldemort smirked at the sight and reached for his knife only to stop when he felt several vibrations in his pocket.

 _Who is stupid enough to interrupt me?_ Voldemort thought. He sat back in his chair, allowing Pansy to cry and cower between her dead friends and coworkers as he pulled out his phone to see several texts from an unknown number.

_Hi Tom! It’s me, Harry. I’m sorry that I’m texting you like this, I hope you’re not busy!_

_I got the number from Marcus’s phone please don’t be mad at him he doesn’t know!_

_I just forgot to give you my number after our date and umm I missed you and wanted to talk with you—but now you have my number so now you can! I hope you’re not mad. And I’m sorry if I interrupted!_

“You little songbird,” Voldemort said softly, giving a dark chuckle. He glanced down at Pansy and pocketed his phone. He stood up and kicked over Miles’ body, cutting Pansy’s gag and pulling her up, cutting the restraints. “You are lucky, a little songbird decided you still have use,” he said to her, holding the knife, now smeared and covered with both her friends’ blood, at her eye level. “Find out who exactly is going against my orders and bring him to me. Otherwise, I won’t be so merciful. Understand, Pansy?”

“Y-Yes my lord—thank you,” Pansy cried.

“Good,” Voldemort purred with a cold smile. “Now—” he dropped the knife, “clean up this mess and do as you are commanded. And don’t worry about the drugs, you are no longer in charge of it. It is clear that I need someone with a stricter hand.” He turned and left. Pansy fell to her knees and broke down, crying.

When he was out of the warehouse, Voldemort pulled out his phone and dialed the new number, “Hello my songbird,” he purred when Harry answered, “you are a very clever little minx. … No, no, I’m not mad at all my Harry, it was rude of me to not get my boy’s number after our date. … Was I busy? No, not really, I just had to yell at a couple employees who fell out of line. … Hee hee, yes Harry, I was the big mean villain Mr. Riddle, I really scared them. Would you like to watch next time? I will be a perfect model for your villain. … Of course, I remembered Harry, it is your dream. I would love to talk more, but work calls for both of us. I will see you on our date, goodbye my songbird.”


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Harry and Tom had four dates over the rest of the week and into next week. Harry loved them all. Tom was always considerate, always listening, and he had the best stories to tell. Best of all, Tom brought Harry to places that he never thought he would go fancy restaurants way outside his price range, exclusive gay clubs that Harry wouldn’t be brave enough to enter himself, and private nooks and sanctuaries that Harry never knew existed in the city. It was Thursday night, and Harry was sitting close to Tom, almost resting on him, as they stared up at the cloudless night. The moon shone bright, along with a few stars.

“I’m jealous,” Harry whispered.

“Hmm?”

“I’m jealous of those who live away from cities, in the countryside,” Harry said, staring up. “They look up at night and see stars, countless stars, while I’m left with this endless void.” He waved his hand to the sky. “I grew up in Hogwarts. It’s my home through and through. This is all I know about the night sky. Don’t get me wrong, I love Hogwarts, and I loved everywhere you sent me, even if I do feel a little out of place in those restaurants,” his cheeks started to blush, “but my biggest dream, after publishing my book, is to move away. Get away from the city and stare up at the stars.” He sighed and, much to Tom’s pleasure, sang a little. _“Stars, In your multitudes, Scare to be counted, Filling the darkness, With Order and Light! You are the sentinels, silent and sure. Keeping watch in the night… keeping watch in the night.”_ He blinked twice and blushed, “Sorry,” he muttered.

“Don’t apologize songbird, I love your singing,” Tom purred, and he lifted Harry’s chin slightly, and brought his lips to Harry’s forehead.

“It’s a silly dream,” Harry muttered.

“No, my sweet, it is not,” Tom said. He smiled softly and combed his thumb across Harry’s cheek. “I’m happy you are who you are,” he said.

“Huh? What do you mean?” Harry asked, confused. Tom chuckled and pulled Harry closer with his free arm so that he was fully leaning into him.

“I am happy, my songbird, that my wealth makes you uncomfortable,” Tom explained, continuing on before Harry looked even more confused, or worse, offended. “I’ve had my fair share of partners. Men, women, and everyone in-between and out. All of them ‘loved’ me, or rather, they loved what I could give them. Money, power, glory. I was never a person to them, not really, only a stuffed wallet, with an amazing dick.” He chuckled as his songbird blushed. “You’re the first one, Harry, who doesn’t want me for my money.”

“How do you know that?” Harry asked softly.

“Because my songbird, you are uncomfortable in the most elite restaurants, you refuse to allow me to pay to publish your book, and, most of all, I can sense your glaring whenever I say something you don’t like,” Tom chuckled.

“I thought I was being subtle,” Harry whispered.

“It isn’t a bad thing, in fact I like that you disagree with me,” Tom said encouragingly, “Songbird…” Tom smiled and shook his head lightly. “You have a spark, a beautiful spark that I would love to see more.”

“Thank you Tom,” Harry said, giving a content smile. “This right here, is the best I’ve ever experienced. I had my share of lovers too, you know. We meet, we fuck, and I walk away. That was about it. I never had, this, before.” He said. “Proper dates. Cuddling. The closest I’ve ever been with someone before you Tom, was when I was fisted.”

Tom chuckled and combed his hair through Harry’s hair lightly, “I can tell just by your casualness towards sex, which I do like and appreciate, my little songbird. To be truthful, I prefer the kinkier tastes of sex myself. Ropes and chains, mixing pain and pleasure as I take my sub pass their limits. But don’t think that vanilla sex is boring to me. Hearing the soft gasps, gliding our bodies against one another as we work slowly, so slowly, to a powerful and long orgasm. That has its joys too. It’s part of my belief, actually, towards sex.”

“Oh?”

“Yes,” Tom nodded. “To be a good Dom, a good Master, you need to know how to make love. How to make the person in your care come undone by touch or even words alone. People who say the do not make love, they fuck… these people are disgusting, villainous abusers. Nothing more. I do not mean to lessen your experiences, I am sure they were fun, but Harry, my sweet songbird, what I offer will make all those experiences fade like a sad orgasm.”

Harry gulped heavily. He looked up at Tom, their eyes meeting as he kept his blush under control. “I would like that one day,” he whispered. And Tom left it at that, kissing Harry’s forehead.

Tom drove Harry home, escorting the younger man to his apartment’s doorstep. “Tom, before you go,” Harry blushed. “Tomorrow, my job has a special event. We have some Queens coming from a drag club nearby. They come once a month or so, and I get involved with helping them. We do readings, I… I sing a little—”

“I’ll be there,” Tom promised.

“You will, that’s great!” Harry said, grinning broadly. “And you can meet my friends there! Blaise and Draco are always there! It starts at four!”

“I cannot wait,” Tom said. He took Harry’s hand in his and brought it to his lips, “Sweet dreams, my little songbird,” he said. He kissed Harry’s hand once more and opened the door for him. Tom watched as Harry went inside, and soon disappeared into an elevator. Where, Tom knew, he would take it up to the top floor and go to his bedroom, which faces the park. Tom returned to his car and took out his phone, canceling his meetings for tomorrow afternoon.

Draco was on his way to The Marauders. It was early Friday afternoon, and thankfully neither he nor Blaise had classes while Harry only had morning classes. Before he headed to the gay bookstore, however, Draco wanted a cup of coffee. Surprisingly enough, there was no _Starbucks_ close to the Marauders, and so he had to go almost a mile away from the bookstore and their college to go to the specific _Starbucks_ that made his drink the way he wanted it. The coffee shop at their college was passable, of course, but today needed to be perfect, and that meant he would have to travel.

Ice coffee in hand, Draco was humming along to the music playing in his ears as he walked down the street. Someone bumped into him, and Draco quickly turned to mutter “sorry” when his apology stopped. “Parkinson?”

The young woman stopped and kept her head low. Draco paused his music but kept his earbuds in. “Parkinson—Pansy Parkinson!”

She turned around, “Hello Draco… it’s been a while,” she muttered. Draco had to hide a shiver of repulse. Her hair was dirty, looking oily and needing a proper cleansing. There was dirt on her cheeks, and she wore old faded clothing, her jeans ripped and stained.

“It certainly has,” he said. It was comical, in his mind, how different the two of them were. She was wearing filth, dirt, while he was dressed in a silk purple shirt of the finest kind, a black tie hanging loosely around his neck, and tight name-brand black jeans, along with two pride bracelets on each arm.

“Since high school, yeah?” she said. She was right. Draco remembered, her parents were well off, having enough money to at least give her a bath.

“Yes, high school,” Draco said tightly, remembering all too clearly how she was one of Harry’s bullies. Using her wealth to ascend into popularity and using it as power to bully Harry. It was the hardest in their sophomore year, Draco remembered, where her parents died, and all their money came to her.

“You look well,” she said.

“I wish I can say the same for you, Parkinson,” Draco said rudely. “I’m surprised that you are still here, I thought you would be far from Hogwarts after squandering your parents money for two years.”

He expected a sneer of her own, a barking comeback. But instead her eyes dimmed and glanced down. “I had a hard life,” she muttered, “you wouldn’t understand.”

Draco sneered, “A hard life? Please. You wasted your parents’ money on any drug you can find, and sneak into clubs to get drunk! All while bullying everyone you thought beneath you—including Harry. A hard life? Ha! If life was hard, you would be away in a prison rotting—you would be dead in a ditch for all that you would have done to us. We still have those scars, Parkinson, and I can still tell the police.” He stepped closer and grabbed Pansy’s shirt, pulling her roughly towards him. On lookers glanced but walked away quickly. “If I ever see you again, if you ever go close to Harry, I will make you wish that our scars are the worst I’ll do to you. Do you understand, Parkinson?”

Parkinson nodded, “Y-Yeah.” Draco pushed her away and sneered. He took a sip of his coffee, “This tastes like shit now,” he grumbled, and walked away, dropping his full drink in the nearest trash can. He turned the corner and rubbed his wrists.

Harry was rubbing his wrists nervously. It was almost four and there was no sign of Tom or Marcus. He was in the office, the blinds closed to give the room privacy. “Relax Harry, I’m sure your boyfriend will be here,” Blaise said reassuringly.

“Ohhh? Baby boy has a boyfriend?” a voice with a heavy lisps said, “Harry baby, do kiss and tell!”

“Hi Julian,” Harry said, turning to see the tall effeminate man out of drag. “And it’s nothing really, we’ve only been dating for about two weeks.”

“Honey, two weeks in the gay world is two years,” Julian said, “you have to tell us all about him!” He smiled and pressed his fingers together, “Or wait—how about this instead, we’ll have you all dolled up and singing, and the girls and I will guess who your lucky suitor is based on their reactions! Yas! This is brilliant—I have to tell the girls!”

Harry blushed but Blaise chuckled, “It’ll be alright babe, I’m sure that he’ll find it amusing. Besides,” he leaned into Harry’s ear and whispered, “I want to meet him too. Daddy has to make sure he’s good enough for his boy.”

“Blaise!” Harry gasped, pushing him away. Blaise laughed loudly as Julian watched on.

“Oh to be young again,” he sighed dramatically, “now Harry, what song will you be singing? I need to know so I can match your make up to its mood.”

“A love song,” Harry answered vaguely. “A slow romantic love song.”

“Then we shall make you the essence of love and romance darling!” Julian declared. “A woman so beautiful that even Aphrodite will blush in jealousy.” And with that, he ran off, leaving the room just as Draco walked in.

“What was that about?” Draco asked.

“Julian was being Julian,” Harry said, shrugging. He looked at Draco and noticed frown lines. “What’s the matter?” Blaise looked up too and immediately went to Draco.

“It’s nothing babe,” he told Harry, “I’m already baby,” he told Blaise. Harry and Blaise both looked unconvinced but said nothing.

As four approached even closer, the crowd inside drew. The boys stayed inside the office, glancing out every now and again. Harry started to feel anxious and downhearted until, at precisely three fifty-nine, two men walked into the bookstore. “TOM!” Harry jumped, smiling widely, “and Marcus!”

“I told you they would come Harry,” Blaise chuckled. “You really should listen to your daddies more often.”

“Speaking of Daddies, Sirius says it is time!” The door opened and Julian walked into the office, now in full drag. She was wearing a long golden dress that ended with orange trimmings. The dress flowed, a slip in the front allowing an easy and seductive view of her leg. Her hair was now long and orange, a wig obviously, and she had striking make up, green eyeshadow and pink lip gloss that sparkled in the light. “Come now Darling, your public awaits!” She winked and seemingly produced a fan from nowhere, giggling as it unfolded in an expert flick of her wrist.

“Knock them dead Harry,” Draco cheered.

“Good luck, Madam,” Blaise said, winking at the drag queen. She blew Blaise a kiss and took Harry’s hand. “Queers and peers!” she yelled out as she and Harry left the room. “Ladies and Gays and all around! I, Madame Cleo Fortuna, am proud to present our next event! You know him as our lovable twink, our bashful boy, our sweet Harry Potter who works at this fine establishment of the written smut and other stories, sorry, Sirius”—there was laugher, and Sirius’s voice yelled out above all, “None taken Madame!”— “It is time once again to beautify this boy and listen to his lovely song!” The crowd cheered and Harry glanced behind him to see Draco and Blaise slipping out to join them. Madame Cleo Fortuna brought Harry around the crowd towards a makeshift stage, on which two drag queens waited, standing like presenters in front of a prop chair that looked fancy, and a full vanity table, and a closed wardrobe.

Madame Fortuna brought Harry onto the stage and he stood sheepishly, shifting from foot to foot. “Come now darling you do this monthly! You should be used to us by now,” Madame Cleo Fortuna joked, “or—is there another reason you’re nervous today? A _man_ reason?” The Three Drag Queens all made exaggerated noises of interest while the crowd muttered around themselves, growing quiet. “That’s right! Our dear sweet little baby boy Harry has finally gotten himself a man! Going _two gay years strong!_ ” The crowd cheered and clapped as Harry blushed, his eyes roaming the crowd, locking onto Tom. He was standing in the back, dressed in one of his finest suits. Thankfully, Harry saw an amused smirk on his face. “I know! But, Harry’s also a bad boy! He won’t tell him Drag mothers who his man is!”

“Harry, how rude of you!” The queen on his left gasped, Harry recognized her as Miss Vanji.

“Disrespectful! Mommy’s going to have to punish you,” the queen on his right, Lady Zizi, said.

“Ladies, Ladies, no talk about that—we all know that Harry will get enough punishing from his man after this, although our sweet boy might be moaning and groaning more than crying,” Madame Cleo Fortuna said, the crowd laughing with her.

Harry’s blush grew. “Can we please get this over with?” he asked softly.

“Of course, Harry, you know it’s all sweet fun,” Madame Cleo winked. Miss Vanji and Lady Zizi helped Harry into the seat as Madame Cleo Fortuna did what she did best. “Now! Our sweet Harry here has a love song to sing for us! A love song no doubt is addressed to his mysterious lover. But look at this! A shirt, _jeans—_ this is no attire to wear while singing about love! Which is why we, Harry’s Three Fairy Drag Queen Mothers, will spin our magic wands and transform this boy into Aphrodite herself!”

She stomped her foot and the wardrobe opened. “And this! Will be her dress.” The crowd made a noise as Harry’s chair was turned away from the wardrobe and towards the vanity table. “Close your eyes now Harry,” Madame Cleo said, winking as she took off Harry’s glasses, “and watch as you are—transformed!”

Pop music started beating and the crowd’s cheers grew. Harry knew what was going to happen next. The three would dance around him, taking off his clothes until he was just in his underwear before slipping the dress on him. Miss Vanji and Lady Zizi would cover this part, dancing with comically large fans and curtains as Madame Cleo dressed Harry, all with the boy’s eyes being closed. Then, the make up would come, the queens dancing to the beat as they keep Harry hidden. After makeup is accessories! Madame Cleo’s favorite part. She always have Harry wear the same bracelets clasped on his slender wrists. He felt the pinch of two fake earrings and the familiar clasp of the bracelets and knew that they were done. She slipped his glasses back and on smirked, “Ready honey?” she asked.

Harry’s eyes opened and stared at himself, smiling. She ready outdid herself this time. He nodded to her. “Great—because here we GO!” She turned Harry’s chair around and, on the beat, the fans hiding Harry were pulled away. The crowd’s cheering made an uproar and Harry stood up, smiling softly.

His make up was simply, some blush and a light pink lip gloss and subtle eye shadow. His hair was longer, combed out with small extensions to make him look more feminine as he wore a long red spaghetti/halter neck satin dress with a split up the left side. A microphone was placed in front of him, and Harry’s smile turned nervous. “Hello,” he said in the mic. “I’m uh, going to sing a love song now…” He closed his eyes and cleared his throat away from the microphone before opening them again, staring at Tom.

The music started to play and Harry took a breath, waiting for the beginning, and sang.

_“Whenever sang my songs  
On the stage, on my own  
Whenever said my words  
Wishing they would be heard  
I saw you smiling at me  
Was it real or just my fantasy  
You'd always be there in the corner  
Of this tiny little bar”_

Harry sang, his voice heavenly and light. The crowd around him dimmed away, swaying softly. But Harry did not noticed. He stood there singing to Tom, who stayed in the back, his smirk gone as he stared at Harry. The room seemed to disappear, it was only Harry and Tom in that moment as he sang, going from refrain to refrain. He knew the lyrics for years, and this was the first time he sang them, first time he truly felt the lyrics. He made sure to put extra efforts into his singing, though in his mind he was only singing to an audience of one instead of the dozens who stood in front of him. As he reached his end, his heart was high.

_“Darling, so there you are  
With that look on your face  
As if you're never hurt  
As if you're never down  
Shall I be the one for you  
Who pinches you softly but sure  
If frown is shown then  
I will know that you are no dreamer”_

The world returned. The crowd cheered, but in Harry’s eyes all he saw was Tom Riddle, smiling at him as he clapped. Harry smiled at the sight of Tom and stepped back, bowing politely as Madame Cleo took the microphone. Her words fell did not reach Harry’s ears, as he stared at Tom, already slowly backing away to join him. However, the crowd would not let him, everyone wanting to clap and comment on how beautiful he looked and sang. He was lost in the crowd, when he felt a strong hand grab his arm and pull.

“Found you,” the voice said. Harry looked and saw Marcus Flint pulling him away from the crowd. People’s attention was turned to the three drag queens, and Harry and Marcus were able to slip through the rest of the crowd, and straight into the arms of Tom.

“You were beautiful songbird,” Tom said, “I almost a thought to lock you up so you can only sing for me.” He chuckled.

“Then it would be songs of a sad love,” Harry countered. Tom chuckled, and combed his finger through Harry’s hair, “Then lament for me your saddest song, my songbird, and I will turn it into love,” he whispered.

“Tom,” Harry blushed. There was a throat clearing, and Harry turned to see Marcus, standing professional, with a slight tint of pink on his cheeks. “If you would sir, will you be needing my service for the rest of the day?”

“No Flint, thank you,” Tom said, “however, I will be needing the car.”

“Of course, sir,” Marcus nodded. He smiled at Harry, “I’ll talk with you later Harry,” he said, “You sang brilliantly, I loved it!”

“Thank you Marcus,” Harry blushed. Tom wrapped his arms around Harry as the young man watched his friend leave. The couple barely had a second alone, however, as Blaise and Draco found them. “Harry that was brilliant!” Draco cheered.

“We loved it!” Blaise said. They looked at Tom, and immediately stiffened a little. “So, I take it you are Tom Riddle? Draco and I have heard a lot about you.”

“Oh, my songbird gossiped about me?” Tom asked.

“These are my roommates, and best friends,” Harry answered. “Blaise Zabini and Draco Malfoy.”

“Then I will make an extra effort to get on both your good sides,” Tom said smoothly, taking both their hands. “Do you three also go to school together?”

“Yes, I’m going for business while Blaise is a Health major,” Draco nodded.

“A business major, a health major, and an English major who will publish a bestselling novel,” Tom chuckled. “What a trio you make.”

“We’re special,” Blaise bragged, smiling. “We take care of each other, always have, always will.”

“Understood,” Tom nodded, “well, you have no need to worry about me, I only have the best intentions for Harry. My songbird has captured my heart and I only stride for the best for him.”

“Tom,” Harry blushed.

“It is true, and I will give you both a chance to interrogate me more thoroughly, however, I have a surprise for Harry,” Tom purred. “I will be taking him for the night.”

“Just make sure he’s back by morning,” Blaise said.

“Of course,” Tom promised. He looked down and kissed Harry’s forehead, “Are you ready, songbird?”

“What about my clothes?” Harry asked.

“Leave them, you look radiant in that dress,” Tom whispered. Harry blushed and smiled as he allowed Tom to escort him out of the bookstore. They walked hand in hand to Tom’s black car and Tom opened the passenger seat. Sitting on the seat was a black blindfold. Harry looked at it and turned up to look at Tom questionably.

“Part of the surprise, if you would allow it,” Tom said. “Don’t worry, I know how to blindfold a person and keep their makeup unscathed. Harry smiled at that and bent to take the blindfold. It was light to the touch, and he held it up in front of his eyes. Even from a small distance away, Harry couldn’t see through it. He turned to Tom and handed it to him.

“I trust you,” Harry said, taking off his glasses.

“This will be a long ride,” Tom whispered.

“I trust you,” Harry repeated. He handed Tom his glasses. Tom pocketed them and held the black cloth in front of Harry.

“Close your eyes and turn around, Songbird,” he commanded. Harry obeyed, turning and closing his eyes. He felt the cloth wrap around his head, Tom securing it tightly. He opened his eyes, only to see darkness. He felt hands on him. “It is me,” Tom said, “I’m going to help you into the car.”

“Okay,” Harry whispered. Tom’s hands moved and guided his body into the car, taking time to pet his hair and buckle Harry.

“And no,” Tom chuckled as he leaned away, “I will not tell you where we are going.”

Harry heard the car door closed and swallowed, a sense of excitement jolting through his heart and going to his dick. There was silence, and a moment later the sound of a car door opened. Tom got in and the door closed again. The engine roared to life, and Harry heard Tom chuckled. “I think we’ll forgo the music,” he said, a hand moving to lay on Harry’s inner thigh, “Nothing we hear will pass your singing in beauty.”

And so, they drove. Tom’s hand stayed on Harry’s thigh, his grip strong as his fingers teased towards Harry’s cock that constantly hardened and softened on the ride. They did not talk, Tom did not start any conversation, and Harry knew deep down that he was not allowed to talk. Not yet. Not until Tom gives him permission.

Time passed but Harry lost any sense of it. All he saw was nothing, all he heard was the sound of the car moving and all he felt was Tom’s hand on his thigh. This was both frustrating and strangely peaceful. He wanted to see but desired Tom’s touch. He wanted to talk, and yet he loved the silent peace between him and Tom.

It felt like they were driving forever. On and on the sound of driving went, and Tom’s hand never lost pressure on his thigh. He was holding bare skin, Harry realized. Tom’s hand slipped between the opening on his left leg. He was holding so near his underwear. So near he could just push up and… his cock pulsed, and he had to swallow back a moan to keep the silence.

The car slowed down. It stopped completely. Tom turned the engine off. A door opened and closed. There was silence. Harry missed Tom’s touch. Harry’s door opened, and he felt Tom unbuckling him. “We are almost there Harry, you were such a good boy in the car,” he cooed. “Stay a good boy, okay? Keep the blindfold on.”

“Yes, Tom,” Harry said. Tom helped him out of the car and held him close. He closed the door and started walking. By the sound of it, Harry guessed they were still on pavement, which soon turned to grass. The grass crunched softly under their feet. They walked through a flat area for a few minutes before the ground underneath started to raise. They were on a hill, Harry realized, and they climbed for ten full minutes before it started to level out, and they stopped.

“Keep your eyes closed, Harry,” Tom commanded.

Harry’s eyes slipped closed just as Tom started to undo his blindfold. The cloth slipped off, and Harry kept his eyes closed. He felt the weight of his glasses gently pushed onto his face, and Tom’s hand caressing his cheeks and chin. “Now,” he whispered, “open your eyes, my songbird.”

Harry opened his eyes slowly and gasped. They were no longer in Hogwarts. In fact, by the looks of it, they were far away from Hogwarts. They were standing on top of a hill. A blanket was laid out, with two baskets laying on it. But that wasn’t the sight that took Harry’s breath away. No, his eyes turned upward and saw…

Stars. Twinkling lights filling the heavens. A sea of shining balls filling the void over them both. Their sizes were varied, but they all glowed down upon them, giving the void that Harry has always known a purple glow. His cheeks felt wet and Harry turned to Tom. “Thank you,” he whispered. He stepped towards Tom and reached up to wrap his arms around Tom’s neck. “Thank you so much, it’s so beautiful,” he whispered, and without a word from Tom, Harry pressed his lips to Tom’s.

Their kiss was deepened by Tom, who held Harry’s head tight, pulling the younger man closer to him as they fell to the blanket. Harry was on top of Tom, but Tom was in full control. They pressed their bodies against one another, Harry could feel Tom’s stiffness against his. Precum beaded at the head of his own dick and started to stain his underwear. Tom held Harry tight to him, his free hand sliding down Harry’s dress, slipping under his thumb hooking Harry’s underwear and he started to pull down. Harry’s hands went to Tom’s pants, and a moan passed both their lips as Harry unhooked Tom’s belt, pulling it free before opening his pants, pulling it and Tom’s boxers off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Technically, I could have split this chapter into two, but I couldn’t help myself. And there really wasn’t any good splitting point. So, I hope you all enjoy: Harry dressing up and singing, Harry and Tom finally making love, and a secret past even that connects Harry and Draco to Pansy, who works for Voldemort. Thank you all so much for reading, I really do hope you’ve enjoyed, and please leave a comment/review.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End Act 1.....

Ch. 9

“It was amazing! We kissed under the stars, I slipped of his pants and just—it was magic! It felt right like I was made for him! Does that make sense? Does that feel like when you have sex?”

Harry was home with Draco and Blaise. It was the morning after his romantic night with Tom.

“Like lock and key? Yeah,” Blaise chuckled. “I carved a pussy into your daddy, right Draco?”

“I am going to hurt you,” Draco grumbled, glaring at Blaise.

Harry smiled at them and relaxed in his chair. His heart was beating fast, his face blushed beautifully, and a smile never left his face. Draco and Blaise watched their close friend and shared a knowing look.

Meanwhile, Tom Riddle returned to his regular business. Last night was perfect, he gotten to feel his songbird around him, and brought him even deeper into his grasps. He still wanted to corrupt the boy. Wanted to see him cry at pain he inflicted before moaning in pleasure until the two became a single sensation. But he has time, after all, Harry Potter was going to be his spouse, his beautiful blushing bride.

When he went to his office, he saw that he received an update from Greyback on their little friend. His chains have been removed, and he is starting to listen without Greyback needing to whip him. “If all goes well, little Ezio will be ready by the end of the month,” Tom muttered to himself. But that was in good time, for now, he had to play the role of an innocent businessman, all while planning his slow corruption of Harry Potter.

A week passed, and Tom had a horrible sensation. He felt as though he was being followed. He didn’t like it, and it was a consistent feeling. It did not matter if he was being driven around, in his own building, or on a date with Harry, he couldn’t shake off the feeling that somebody was watching him. So, he summoned Bellatrix Lestrange to deal with it. “I have a feeling that someone is watching me very closely,” he said. He checked his watch and glanced at the woman. “I have a date with Harry in precisely six hours. I want it done by then.”

“Yes, sir,” Bellatrix said and left. Tom reclined and smiled as he closed his eyes and allowed his mind to be filled with the picture of Harry wearing that lovely dress. _I should get him a gift,_ he thought to himself. He buzzed his secretary and asked, “Do I have any appointments this afternoon?”

“Yes sir, you have a meeting with a Mario Auditore at four,” the secretary answered.

“Canceled it, I’m going to be out of office,” Tom said. He left his office and went to his private elevator. Flint was off today, so his driver was some nameless member he could not remember. Not that it mattered. He told the driver the name of a dress shop and relaxed in his seat. It was so boring without Harry or Marcus. This driver was silent, most likely too scared to talk, and Tom was not in the mood for silence. As though it could hear him, his phone started to ring. He pulled it out and grimaced. He wanted to talk with someone, but not Parkinson. “Hello Parkinson, why have you decided to call me?” Tom asked, his persona shifting to Lord Voldemort. “I-I’m sorry my lord,” Pansy said, clearly scared. “But about that thing you told me to do.”

Voldemort gave an irritated sigh. “Are you too stupid and useless enough that you cannot track down one man?”

“No! I found him—I have him!” Pansy said, sounding like she was begging for praise. Praise that Voldemort would never give.

“Where are you?” he instead asked.

“I-I’m in my home. It was very hard to bring him here, I had to go through everyone I know, and then asked like I was interested in him, sexu—”

“Stay where you are, Crabbe and Goyle will pick him up,” Voldemort interrupted. “Do not let him escape, or you will never see another chance to get him.” He hung up and immediately called Goyle. “Goyle, I want you and Crabbe to head to Pansy Parkinson’s home. You should find the idiot who convinced Parkinson and her friends to sell drugs to children there. If he isn’t, or if he escapes, I want you to get a name from Parkinson, and take her for a long ride.”

“Understood boss,” Goyle grunted. Tom hung up and sighed. This was supposed to be a relaxing break to buy his songbird a gift, but now work has almost soured it. Glowering, he barked at his driver to hurry up before going to his other phone, to stare at pictures of his sweet Harry, looking so innocent and delectable. He couldn’t wait to taste Harry again. To have the moan writhe and moan under his touch. He spent the rest of the ride scrolling through pictures of Harry until the car stopped in front of the dress store.

Tom told his driver to wait in the car and walked inside. The clothing store screamed expensive and exclusive. Tom knew that Harry hated when he flaunted his wealth, but he was Tom’s songbird. He’ll accept any and all presents he gives him. A woman who looked as though she starved herself to fit into the red outfit she was wearing walked up to him. “Welcome,” she said, smiling too big, “how can I help you?”

“I am here to buy a dress obviously,” Riddle drawled as he walked in further. He glanced at a dress whose waist size looked smaller than his wrist and grimaced. “I hope you have clothing for people who actually eat more than ice cubes, or else I will be severely disappointed.” He lifted the dress and his grimaced turned into a sneer, “and something that clearly isn’t made from cheap fabric.”

“Sir, that dress is made right here in our country—”

“Exactly: Cheap fabric,” Tom said. The saleswoman’s smile never faded, but Tom did notice a tick on her eyebrow.

“Very well sir,” she said, “if you give me your wife’s size I will gladly help you.”

“Boyfriend,” Tom corrected, “and of course.” He gave the woman Harry’s measurements, something that he learned to memorize after a whole night worshiping his body. The woman frowned.

“He sounds like a rather big man, sir,” she said.

Tom did not like that. He took a step closer to the woman and glared down at her. “Do you know who I am?” he asked. “I am Tom Marvolo Riddle. One word from me and I will have this entire _square_ teared down for parking. I do not want your comments, I do not want you calling my songbird ‘big’ or anything even remoting insulting. I just want you to get every FUCKING dress that will fit him and present them to me. NOW!”

The woman jumped and glared at Tom. She opened her mouth as though she was about to yell when a male’s voice interrupt. “Karen, Karen, you heard the man, we wouldn’t want to make him angry!” A skinny man wearing an Italian suit appeared, his hair obviously dyed black and sleeked back. He went up to the woman and whispered, “He’s you-know-what,” he muttered. “Mafia.”

“And I can hear you both perfectly,” Tom said, clearly annoyed. He turned to the man. “I am not a patient costumer,” he warned. “Both of you get me the dresses, and a chair to wait in.”

The man yelped and both ran off. A leather chair was quickly provided, and Tom sat, waiting impatiently for ten minutes. The two ran back with exactly ten dresses. “This is it?” he sneered.

“We-we’re a specialty shop for petite women, sir,” the man tried to explain. Tom sneered at him and stood up from his chair. He walked to the first dress and examined it. It was simple, red, and he did not like how the fabric felt on his fingers. “Really?” he asked, “this is trash.” He threw it to the floor and moved to the next dress. He did not like the next four dressed. They were too plain, too trashy, too gaudy, and too ugly. He threw them on the floor without a care, the woman named Karen stared in shock and terror. He stopped at the sixth dress.

It was a dark green, almost matching Harry’s eyes, and was a spaghetti strap with a cut up the right. Tom held it up by the straps and examined it. It felt good, soft to the touch. He looked at the price tag and laughed. “This dress is barely acceptable for my songbird and you are demanding almost a thousand dollars?” He demanded.

He pulled out his wallet and gave the man only six hundred. “Next time I come here, if I come here, I expect a better selection,” he warned. He made the man wrap the dress for him and left with the box under his arm. “There is an accessory shop,” he said as he got into the car. “Take me there.” He gave the address, and the driver pulled away.

Tom had an easier time buying accessories and jewelry for his songbird. Gold and emerald bracers, bangles and necklaces and bracelets. When he was done, he had it all gift wrapped and had his driver return him back to the office, where Bellatrix was waiting for him.

“You’re going to love this,” she said. “The person following you? He’s my brother-in-law’s. My dear nephew hired him to follow you.”

Tom laughed. “Of course, Malfoys don’t know limits.”

“Should I take care of him?” Bellatrix asked.

“No,” Riddle said. “He is most likely here to make sure that I am a perfect partner for Harry. I have nothing to hide, so let him have his run. Just make sure he does not figure out about our side activities. He should be satisfied in a week or so.”

“Understood,” Bellatrix said, and she gave a small bow before she left. Alone, Tom turned his chair to stare outside the window for a while before going back to work. The rest of the day went by boringly. He still felt as though he was being watched, however now that he knew who was watching him, Tom had a strange sort of thrill growing inside him.

When it was almost time for his date with Harry, Tom showered in his private bathroom, and dressed in a new black button down shirt and pants, leaving his top three buttons left unbuttoned. Once again he used his elevator to get to the parking lot and took his personal car to Harry’s.

Harry was waiting for him just outside his apartment, and he ran into the car, bouncing into it and kissing Tom fully. “Hello,” he smiled.

“Hello, songbird,” Tom chuckled. “I have a gift for you.”

“Really? You didn’t have to, Tom,” Harry said.

“I insisted,” Tom said, reaching back for both boxes. He gave Harry the box with the dress first. Harry opened it and gasped. “Tom! Tom—this is beautiful,” Harry said, looking at him. “I love it!”

“After seeing you in that dress, my songbird, I was wondering if I could persuade you to get in another one,” Tom purred.

Harry blushed and looked down at the dress. “Funny enough,” he said softly, “I kind of love wearing dresses.”

“Then can you be a good boy for me and change into this, my pretty songbird?” Tom asked, kissing Harry’s cheek. “This gift is all jewelry for you that will look gorgeous.”

“Oh,” Harry looked at the box hesitantly. “I’m sorry but… is there something in there that will cover my wrists?”

“I brought a jeweled bracer,” Tom said, “Why do you want your wrists covered, songbird?”

Harry’s eyes looked faraway. He glanced at Tom and bit his bottom lip. Tom sensed his uneasy and kissed his sadness away. “You don’t need to tell me now,” he whispered. “Go get changed songbird, I’ll wait.”

“Okay Daddy,” Harry said teasingly. He kissed Tom once more and ran back into the apartment with box boxes in hand. He returned half an hour later, looking remarkable in his dress. He wore the bracer that covered his wrists, along with the necklace. He kissed Tom once more when he went into the car. “I’m ready,” he smiled, and Tom drove off.

The private investigator finished gathering information at the end of the month. He met Draco in a nearby Starbucks, a stack of photos between them. “Riddle seems like a clean guy,” the investigator said, showing Draco the pictures. Draco took the pile and shifted through them. “Goes to work, goes to the gym, has dates with the same person, nothing dirty or suspicious.” Draco nodded and frowned when he stopped at a picture that had Harry wearing the dress Tom brought for him. He was laughing in the picture as Tom was kissing his neck.

“You took a picture of Harry like this!” he yelled. He looked through the pictures, seeing several with Harry. “Why did you take pictures of Harry?”

“He was with Riddle,” the investigator said. “That was the only person besides his workers that Riddle ever was with!”

Draco glared at him for yelling. He looked at the pictures with Harry and pocketed them. “You’re done,” he said. “You’ll get your money later.” He stood up and left the investigator at the table. Outside, he went to the nearest trash can and ripped up the pictures with Harry before calling Blaise.

“I’m surprised that you made this meeting, Riddle,” Mario Auditore said. They were in Riddle’s building, both sitting at a side table sharing a drink. “Especially after our last meeting.”

“Indeed, you have been rather rude out last meeting,” Riddle drawled, “however time and some fortuitous news has changed my mood.”

“I was rude!” Auditore yelled out, “it was you who kidnapped my family! My niece and nephew! You killed my men and still you call me rude!? ME!”

“Yes, you,” Riddle said, sitting calmly as his guest yelled at him. “It was you who started it all when you invaded my city.”

“Ha! Then I should have done more! Maybe I’ll go and kidnap that little whore of yours,” Auditore sneered. “That boy, Harry Potter—yes I know all about that.” He chuckled. “I’ll take him and pass that little ass around my friends before teaching him what a _real_ man fucks like!” He grabbed his crotch and thrust towards Tom, laughing cruelly. “Then we’ll have a trade. Your whore for my niece, that is, if your whore wants to crawl back to you after tasting all the Italian cock he can take!”

Auditore gave a cruel laugh as Riddle’s hands tightened around his cup. “You will do no such thing,” he said, standing. “You are not a man, just an obnoxious boy who thinks he can rape and pillage his way to riches.”

“Oh? And what are you going to do? Kill me?” Mario Auditore laughed. “Look at you! I am twice the man you are; I can easily snap you in two!” He made a fake gasp of discovery, “or is it that you want to be the one who dresses like a _puttana_ and suck my beefy Italian cock? Ha! You can borrow a dress and look the part while I shove my cock down your—Agh!”

A knife suddenly pierced Auditore’s chest, hitting his lung, and he coughed, looking at Riddle shocked.

“I don’t need to do anything, Mario Auditore, my newest member of my family will. Come here, boy,” Voldemort said, reaching out his hand. There was movement, and Auditore gave a horrid gasp, coughing blood when he saw the young face of his nephew. “Ez-Ezio!”

Voldemort chuckled cruelly at this. “I hope you enjoy the improvements I made to your nephew. Eighteen-year-olds can be so impressionable. It took no time at all to break him, and mold him into exactly what I need. And don’t worry, since you’re so obsessed with genitals, he kept his.” Voldemort laughed at the look of horror on Auditore’s face as Ezio stepped close to him. He had no recognition in his eyes, only a deep burning hatred.

“Ezio, it’s a me, Mario,” Auditore choked out.

“He knows, the poor boy,” Voldemort cooed. He stepped up and placed a hand on Ezio’s chin and cheek. “Such an innocent sweet boy left to rot and be tortured by a disgusting man who worked for you. Ezio, what was the name of your torturer?”

“Greyback,” Ezio answered.

“And who hired this awful man?” Voldemort asked.

“My uncle.”

“And such a horrible thing to do,” Voldemort tsked, “and what did you do, when my loyal man Marcus Flint found you? Locked up in that dungeon?”

“He released me, and we killed that bastard together,” Ezio said, “and now I’m going to kill you uncle!” He took the knife and stabbed Auditore once more. Blood poured from the wounds and the older man fell to the ground, choking on his vomit and blood.

“You think, this is the end?” he wheezed, glaring at Voldemort. “We could have worked together—survived together.”

“I have survived without anyone’s help, why would I need yours?” Voldemort said.

The dying man gave a dry chuckle. “You don’t know? He is coming. And when he gets here, he’ll kill and burn your entire empire to the ground.”

“Who?” Voldemort demanded. He kicked Auditore onto his back and stomped on his chest. “Tell me who!”

Auditore laughed and with the last of his strength he yelled out, “Gellert Grindelwald!” He collapsed unconscious. Voldemort lost his composure. He grabbed the knife from Ezio and stabbed Auditore multiple times, blood spraying and splashing onto his hands and face. His always-perfect hair went undone, turning wild in his murderous spree, which ended with a final scream and Voldemort tearing a large slice down Mario Auditore’s stomach. He left the knife in the body and stood up, panting heavily.

Taking a step back, he took a deep breath as he tried to smother and smooth out his hair. He turned to Ezio. “You’ve done well. My men should have your sister safe in a safehouse nearby. Marcus will take you. Also, I’m putting you in charge of your uncle’s men. They are evil, yes, but I will need their bodies for what is coming next. And one last thing,” he placed a hand on Ezio’s shoulder, “because of your show of loyalty, I’m inviting you as an important guest to my upcoming wedding. Afterwards, we will talk of you joining my inner circle.”

“Thank you my lord—I am so honored,” Ezio said, he glared down at the body of his uncle, “I am just happy to be rid of this _figlio di puttana._ ” He spat on the corpse. Voldemort nodded.

“Yes, yes, well on your way,” Voldemort chuckled lightly. He waited until Ezio left his office before taking out his cellphone. He called Bellatrix. “I need every _fucking_ person you have to get information on Gellert Grindelwald!”

“Sir?”

“NOW! And call a meeting!” Voldemort ended the call and slammed his phone on his office table. He went to the liquor cabinet and took a glass, filling it with Whiskey and downing it. “It never fucking ends.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ....Welcome to Act 2


	10. Chapter 10

Ch. 10

Tom Riddle found himself sitting across of Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini. It was a few days after he had his new assassin murder his competition, and despite the setback with this Grindelwald, he was in a in good mood. Such a good mood in fact that he even agreed to this ridiculous “interview” with his songbird’s friends.

They were in a small café nearby. Tom was slightly bored by their questioning; however, he couldn’t help but feel amused by the scowls and sharp looks Malfoy and Zabini gave him. “So, what exactly do you do at your job?” Blaise asked. “Being head of a business like that at your age?”

“Thirty,” Draco emphasis.

“Twenty-nine,” Tom smiled, “My birthday is December 31st. As for what I do, we mainly handle business trades. However I also have a private security section which is headed and run by your aunt, Draco, Bellatrix Lestrange.”

“I know, she left being a cop to be it,” Draco said. Tom nodded, “Correct,” he continued. “A much better profession, I must admit, then working as a pig.”

“You have a bad history with cops?” Blaise asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I grew up as an orphan, I had a bad history with everyone,” Tom replied. Draco and Blaise chuckled at this. “I understand that,” Blaise nodded.

“So, did I pass your interrogation?” Tom asked. “You two seem particularly ruthless during it, are you that close with Harry?”

“We are,” Blaise nodded, he glanced at Draco. “We were always together as far as I can remember. Everything about us just clicked. Harry being our best friend, Draco and I dating. It was never awkward, and Harry was never our third wheel. During high school,” he drifted off for a moment, wondering how to phrase his wording. However, he then looked at Tom, “How serious are you about this relationship Riddle?” he asked.

Riddle wasn’t shocked at the question. He stared at Blaise, “It is early; however, I can feel that we will be together for a very long time,” he said. “I hate the phrase ‘love at first sight’ it is so contrive and meaningless. But with Harry, I am hesitant to say it. I will admit that when I heard him during our first meeting, it was lust, however over our dates that carnal lust has developed into a more powerful feeling of affection.”

“Uhh okay,” Blaise said. Tom did his best not to smirk when he and Draco shared a confused look. “As long as you have Harry as your first focus.”

“Trust me boys, I will pull this world into hell if it means keeping Harry safe,” Tom promised. His phone buzzed, and he apologized. “I’m sorry, this is my work phone.” He pulled it out and saw the message. He frowned and pocketed it.

“Something wrong?” Draco asked.

“A small disagreement,” Tom said, “nothing that cannot be fixed with a couple text messages after this. Shall we continue?”

The two younger men nodded. Their questions lasted for ten more minutes, and Tom was more than relieved to finally be in his car. He did not need their approval; he could just simply take his songbird and have him. However, he figured, having a good relationship with his songbrid’s friends would be easier than kidnapping him.

He took out his phone and simply replied back, _Just kill the bastard_ and told Marcus to take him back to the office. “We need to find a better replacement for you when you take off, Flint,” he added, “the last one had zero conversational skills.”

Marcus chuckled and drove on.

Flint brought Tom back to his building. Instead of heading to his office, however, Riddle went towards the basement of the building where, behind a hidden door protected by a code, a meeting room was waiting for him.

He went to the head of the table and waited. Slowly, his inner circle walked into the hidden room, and took their seat. Voldemort looked at his followers, his fellow Mafia members, and waited for a few more moments. He stared at his followers, looking at each one for a moment before moving on. Some shuffled nervously under his gaze, but the rest sat patiently. “Grindelwald,” he began. “What do we know?”

The table shuffled uncomfortably as silence answered him. “No one?” Voldemort asked, not hiding his disappointment. “Nobody knows about the one man who can theoretically undo everything I have built? Everything that we have worked for?”

The table continued with an uncomfortable silence. Voldemort showed his displeasure. “Very well, tell me what Mario Auditore’s records hold,” he said, “since my own inner circle is apparently useless at gathering information.”

Goyle cleared his throat and stood up. “Well, there’s not much… just that Grindelwald’s really bad and uh from out of town… and he has a lot of people.”

“Where is he coming from and what is an estimate of his men?” Voldemort asked.

“Across country, and we don’t know,” Goyle said. He shuffled awkwardly, “That’s umm all we know.”

“Despicable,” Voldemort sneered, “all of you. We have this apparent madman coming into our city god knows when—and we know nothing? Go and find out! I want this bastard’s head on my office’s wall before my wedding!”

“Sir!”

The others all stood and bowed to Voldemort before leaving one by one. Annoyed, Voldemort sat by himself, rubbing his forehead.

Harry couldn’t believe that he and Tom has been dating for a month. It was an amazing month; he could barely believe at times that time moved so fast. It seemed like every night he and Tom were together, on a date, kissing, doing more… naughty things. But his favorite parts were the intimate small acts, little dates and lunches, a surprise visit here and there or a well timed text. Which led Harry to where he was.

He wanted to surprise Tom at his job. He did this a couple times before, so he was sure he would have no trouble this time. He brought some food for them, a couple salads, and bottled water. He only had morning classes that day, so he was free to spend the rest of the day with Tom, if he wasn’t busy.

Tom’s company was located near the center of Hogwarts, being one of the taller sleek new skyscrapers with automatic sliding doors that opened to a large reception center with a circular desk near the center, where a group of attractive woman sat in front of computers. Harry walked up to the one in the center and smiled, “Hello,” he said.

The woman looked up at Harry. She was new, Harry figured, as he didn’t recognize her. “Hello, sir,” she said uncertainly, judging his clothes. “Do you have an interview or appointment?”

“No, I’m here to see Tom,” Harry said simply, “is he free?”

“You want to see Mr. Riddle,” she repeated. “Without an appointment.”

“Uh yeah, I was here last week,” Harry said slowly. The woman blinked at him before giving him a smile, “Sure,” she said, but Harry saw a hand moving under the desk. Harry’s heart panicked and he looked around worryingly. “Look—there’s no need to do that,” he said, “I’m Tom’s boyfriend—we’ve been dating for a month I just came to bring him lunch!”

“Of course, you are sir,” the woman smiled, “but Mr. Riddle does not see anyone without an appointment, and he is currently scheduled for the next six months.”

“I know Tom’s a busy man, but he always make time for me!” Harry argued, “even if it’s just five minutes to eat a fucking salad!” He knew that he wasn’t helping his case by yelling, but his morning classes that day really put him into a terrible, terrible mood.

“Sir, there is no reason to use language like that here,” the receptionist said. “If you would please just walk with this officer here, she will help you.” She motioned to a woman who was walking towards them. Harry turned his head to see her, she had long raven hair that did not stay neatly, black visors, and was wearing a security’s officer’s uniform. Harry internally groaned as he took a step back. All he wanted was to eat a damn salad with his boyfriend.

“What seems to be the problem—oh, it’s ‘ittle Potter,” the security woman said. “What’s the problem, Potter?”

Harry blinked. He had to stare at the woman for a long moment before his brain started to work again and force a name to his mouth, “Lestrange?” he asked. “Draco’s aunt, right?”

“Aww, ‘ittle baby Potter remembered me,” Lestrange said in a fake baby voice. “I’m so lucky. What do you want Potter?”

“I want to go eat lunch with my boyfriend, Tom Riddle, but the receptionist wouldn’t tell me if he’s free or not,” Harry said.

“Ma’am, he’s clearly raving—”

“How long have you been working here?” Lestrange asked, turning to the receptionist.

“A-about a week, ma’am,” she said.

“We should rethink that,” Lestrange said. She jabbed a thumb towards Harry’s direction, “he’s our boss’s boyfriend. And Mr. Riddle hates when people delays Harry whenever he visits.”

“O-Oh!” the receptionist said, suddenly clearly flustered and embarrassed. She smiled brightly at Harry and started typing quickly, “One second Mr. Potter, and I am so sorry for this misunderstanding,” she said. “Mr. Riddle is taking his lunch hour in his office. I’ll inform him you are on your way.”

“Don’t bother, you might screw it up somehow,” Lestrange said. “Go on, Potter.” She pulled out her phone and started to walk away.

“Uhh thank you,” Harry said. He gave the receptionist a somewhat sympathetic smile and walked around the welcoming desk. He started to make his way to one of the several elevators that were at the back of the reception room. He pressed the button to call the elevator and looked around. Lestrange was still in the room, her full attention on her phone. She probably was texting Tom, Harry figured. He turned and hummed to himself as he waited for the elevator.

The doors slid open, and Harry made to go in it—only to stop. There was one occupant in the elevator, and Harry felt his blood run cold as he stared at her. Her hair and clothing were different, dirtier than the last time Harry saw her, but he would never forget her face, and the sadistic sneer she had. Pansy Parkinson looked up to see Harry and immediately backed away. “Potter—I didn’t expect… hello.”

Harry ran the opposite way, dropping his bag. He couldn’t be there; he couldn’t be near that girl! His heart was beating, his blood was cold, and his wrists burned. He heard Lestrange yelling after him as he ran down the length of the reception room, but he didn’t care. He pushed the door opened and ran down the street, his mind lost from the moment.

_“You think you’re so pretty, don’t you Potter?”_

_“You boys have made my life HELL! I’m only returning the favor a bit…”_

He could hear her words, words that he did not hear in years, ring out clearly in his head. His chest burned as his feet pounded against the sidewalk as he ran further and further away. He could still hear her voice, hear her shrill laugh even when he was blocks away. He did not think to take the subway, he wasn’t in the headspace. So instead, he ran the full length, almost forty-five minutes, to his apartment. All the while, Pansy’s voice chased him.

_“You think you’re so special just because you’re Malfoy’s whore? You’re nothing but a disgusting stank…”_

_“You deserve everything that is going to happen here Harry, just accept it with a smile like it’s any other cock.”_

Harry burst into his apartment and ran into his room. His shirt felt itchy, and his wrists were on fire. He tore his shirt off, throwing it on his bed and stood in front of the mirror, turning his laptop on as he passed it. He looked a mess. His entire face was pink from crying or running he couldn’t tell. Tear stains covered his cheeks, and everywhere was sweaty. He felt gross, but he didn’t want to shower. He didn’t feel like he deserved it. He stared at his image, rubbing his wrists as he did so as his laptop booted up. Once it was ready, Harry sat down and lost himself in his writing.

It numbed and distracted Harry. He didn’t need to think about Parkinson, his wrists, or disappointing Tom. All he had to think about was his work, his story, as he focused on a love story between his valent hero and the darkly handsome villain.

Time lost meaning to him. He gotten an entire chapter drafted and started editing when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Harry jumped and looked up to see a concerned Tom. “Tom!” he said, standing up, hiding his wrists from his boyfriend. “What are you doing here?”

“You never made it for lunch,” Tom said gently. “Harry, are you okay? What happened?” He reached out for Harry’s arm and he stepped back, flinching. “Songbird?”

“Sorry,” Harry said softly. “I just... one second.” He pushed past Tom and quickly went to his dresser, pulling open a top drawer and reaching in. He stood with his back to Tom and relaxed a moment later, turning around to Tom, black leather bracers on his wrists. Tom raised an eyebrow and Harry sighed. He raised one hand and stared at the bracer. “I have scars,” he said, “on my wrist. Usually I hide them with makeup, but I ran out of foundation yesterday.”

Tom was immediately on Harry, pulling him down to Harry’s bed. He pulled Harry’s hand to his lips, kissing everywhere and over the bracelet. “What happened, my songbird?” he whispered softly.

“Bad memories,” Harry frowned, allowing himself to lean into Tom. “I saw the person who caused these. I haven’t seen her in a long time. Years. I thought I was past it all but one look and just, everything flooded back.” Tom combed his fingers through his songbird’s hair, feeling how soft the raven locks brushed against his long fingers. Harry was silent, as his eyes slid closed, giving out only murmurs.

“What did she do, my songbird?” Tom asked, seeing an opportunity opening in front of him.

“I don’t want to remember it,” Harry said softly.

“Then don’t,” Tom said, “Tell Daddy what happened without diving back into those awful memories. What did you feel? What did she leave you with?”

Harry sniffled and nodded, he was silent for an even longer period before speaking softly, “She tried to kill Draco and me, Daddy.” He didn’t look up at Tom, so he couldn’t see his face, however Tom could guess as the boy’s voice slowly turned darker, his hand moving to hold one of his leather bracelets. “Kidnapped us, left us in some abandoned place. Scarred us. We were tied, gagged. We couldn’t scream. I thought we were going to die. Blaise found us. He brought police. The two goons she brought with her were arrested. She ran away. And I never saw her until today.”

He was crying again. He hated how weak this made him feel, how useless. Dark thoughts started to swim around his mind. “I was so useless! So weak,” he cried. “We could have died—Draco could have died, and I could do nothing! Draco and Blaise always protected me, took care of me, and when the time came when Draco needed me I couldn’t—I couldn’t—”

“Shh, it’s alright little songbird,” Tom hushed comfortably, “his grip on Harry strengthened, and the two fell on Harry’s bed, the boy laying and crying on Tom. “Do you know her name?”

“I can’t forget it,” Harry spat darkly, “but it doesn’t matter now.”

“But Harry, my little songbird, wouldn’t you want to have the opportunity for revenge?” Tom asked, his hand always combing through Harry’s hair so gently. “Prove how strong you’ve gotten; how strong you are. She escaped justice, yes, but you can still have your revenge. Like your villain offering his beloved hero. Let me be your villain, and show you have villainous I can be, my love.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CONTENT WARNING: There's torture and almost dying via wrist cutting in this chapter. If these are upsetting to you PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD skipped past the scene. The scene is indicated by ... right before the scene and right after. If you did skip, there will be a TL;DR summary in the end notes.

Ch. 11

Before Harry realized it, November was almost done. Tom did not bring up his wrists again, which Harry was thankful for, however he couldn’t help but feel like he was taking advantage of Tom. Lying to him. They’ve been dating for more than a month, and yet already Harry felt like he couldn’t imagine his life without the older man. His classes were intensifying as they neared the end, and Harry hated that he barely had time to see Tom in between his research papers. They mostly video called one another, and the last time Harry mentioned his weird feelings, Tom soothed him.

“Focus on your studies, songbird, I’ll be here for you when you pass all your classes,” Tom purred.

“I know,” Harry sighed, “but I still miss you. And I want to talk to you.”

“About what, my love?” Tom asked.

Harry hesitated. “My wrists,” he said. “It’s unfair that I keep them hidden from you.”

“No it isn’t, you went through pain, serious pain, Harry. It is natural that your wrists trigger something in you,” Tom said.

“But I want to share it, what happened, with you,” Harry insisted. “I hate hiding a part of myself to you when you’ve been fully open about everything.”

Tom chuckled, “If that is what you want my songbird, then okay,” he said softly, “I’ll take you to my home, and we can both reveal our secrets.”

“Okay,” Harry said, giving a relieved smile. “I should be done with mostly everything by the weekend.”

“Then I will pick you up on Saturday. Until then, focus on your schoolwork. I don’t want my songbird failing college.”

“Yes, Daddy,” Harry smiled.

“Good boy.”

Harry couldn’t help but smile at Tom’s praise. “I promise I’ll be a good boy for Daddy and study really hard,” he said.

“That’s what I expect, Songbird,” Tom chuckled. Harry’s cheeks blushed and his heart started to beat wildly. “Tom?” he said.

“Yes?”

Harry hesitated, catching himself before he said it. No, he wanted the first time to be perfect, for them to be in person. Instead, he just smiled, “Goodnight,” he said.

“Goodnight my Songbird,” Tom said, and Harry’s phone went black for a second as Tom hung up.

Harry did as he was told for the rest of the week. He focused wholly on his classwork, and was able to get two papers done, and mostly finishing his other two. When Saturday arrived, Harry was tired, actually going to bed early the previous night, however all of his tiredness went away as he thought about Tom. The older man did not talk to him since their last conversation a few days ago, which Harry was honestly thankful for. He wasn’t the type of boyfriend who needed constant attention, and so he was able to focus on his classwork.

His phone vibrated and Harry smiled when he saw a text from Tom, telling Harry that he would pick Harry up at noon. Harry felt a sense of giddiness and nervousness mixing around him as he thought about what was going to happen. He decided to distract himself by figuring out what he was going to wear.

In the end, it did not take Harry long as he just settled with a long shirt and jeans. He went outside his room to eat breakfast with Draco and Blaise, who were both still shirtless. “Harry, why are you dressed?” Draco asked.

“Tom is picking me up at noon,” Harry said.

“Ahh, well have fun on your date,” Blaise said.

“Thanks,” Harry muttered.

He didn’t know what to do until noon. He tried to squeeze in some extra studying but couldn’t focus. He tried to write, but the words refused to come to him. Sleeping would ruin his hair and clothes. Draco and Blaise had to force the young Harry to sit down with them and relax, each holding a hand, and they instead watched a show from their childhood on _Netflix_ until Harry’s phone rang exactly at twelve. Harry freaked out and demanded Blaise to tackle his hair for last minute changes before he ran down all ten floors, too anxious to wait on the elevator.

“Hello Harry,” Tom chuckled as Harry ran out of his apartment. He immediately got Harry into his arms, and carried the boy to his car, where a blindfold was waiting once again on the passenger seat. “I had a feeling you would be nervous, my Songbird,” Tom purred. “Would you like to be blindfolded?”

“Yes, Daddy,” Harry squeaked softly. Tom chuckled he placed Harry in his car, buckling the boy before gently taking his glasses. Harry relaxed and closed his eyes as he felt the black cloth press against the front of his face and being tied in the back. “Are you comfortable?” Tom asked.

“Yes,” Harry nodded.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, sir,” Harry corrected himself. In the darkness, he heard the door close next to him, and the faint footsteps of Tom’s feet before he opened his door. Harry heard Tom getting into the car, settling in and as the car roared to life, Tom’s hand once again was on his inner thigh.

“This time I’m going to play us some music, okay Songbird?” Tom said, “this is music meant for relaxation. If it doesn’t help, we can go back to silence.”

“Thank you, sir,” Harry said, and Tom’s hand left his inner thigh.

There was a few seconds of silence before the car was filled with the sounds of a relaxing rhythm that swelled and drifted softly. Tom’s hand was back on Harry’s thigh and Tom drove away. Just as before, Harry found that he was left to his thoughts, with the only anchors to the world around him being the music and Tom’s hand. He didn’t want to think about what he and Draco went through, he didn’t want to remember the pain, the laughing, his near brush with death… _No, stop,_ he thought to himself. He squeezed his eyes hard before relaxing until he could only focus on Tom.

Once again Tom was silent during the ride. His hand on Harry’s thigh always a welcoming, relaxing presence. That, along with the music allowed Harry to slowly calm down, his thoughts slowed until he was just in the moment, and any thought of time or Pansy was lost.

Harry was lost in the music and Tom’s touch. He barely noticed that they stopped until Tom’s hand left his thigh, and the music was off. “Okay Harry, we’re here,” Tom said gently. Harry felt expert fingers until the knot behind him, and the blindfold slipped off his face. Tom handed him his glasses and got out of the car only to go around to Harry’s door. “Leave the blindfold,” he commanded.

Harry nodded and left the blindfold on the seat as Tom helped him out of the car. They stood in front of Tom’s home, and Riddle escorted him inside. Harry was in it once before, after the night they made love under the stars. However, he was so exhausted that he didn’t have a good look around the place. The door they went through had them immediately go into a small kitchen area, with a table against the corner and a stove and countertop opposite of it. There was a staircase that went upstairs directly in front of them, as well as a doorway that continued through this floor. Harry thought that they would move through, however Tom made him sit down at the small table.

“This is one of the more intimate kitchens of the house,” Tom said, moving to the stove. “We have a more formal dining room, as well as a full kitchen where multiple staff can cook for up to thirty. However, that only happens when my other business comes up here. Most of the time it is just me, along with a few bodyguards.”

Harry frowned, he wanted to ask what Tom meant, but he didn’t know if he had permission to talk.

There was food already cooking on the stove, and Tom stood over it as he finished it. “How do you feel about shrimp scampi, my Songbird?” Tom asked.

“Y-Yeah, that’s fine,” Harry nodded, his stomach growling heavily, causing him to blush. Tom chuckled at that and turned to the stove once more. Harry figured that he had permission to speak freely, since their car ride was done, so after some inner deliberation he said, “Tom?”

“Hmm?”

“What exactly do you mean? About your ‘other business’?” Harry asked.

Tom continued cooking in silence for a moment. Harry opened to repeat his question, but Tom stopped him. “Business is not my own work, my Songbird,” Tom said carefully. “There are people out there who decide to make a living on more darker things than making an honest life. Drugs, gambling, sex work, the type of businesses that have little or no regulations. An underworld full of scum and villainy. A world that, if left uncheck, would cause society to collapse. It is filled with the worst of people. Killers, murderers, rapists, pedophiles. Criminals. Criminals, Harry, who are skittish and supernatural. Give them a king, a name, a force who will keep them in the shadows, and they will fear even taking a step. … Voldemort. Lord Voldemort. A man that only a few know, and even then, they fear him.” He turned to face Harry.

“I am not an innocent man,” he continued. “I’ve killed, yes. I’ve maimed, I’ve harmed, I’ve broken families and sent countless men to their deaths. When I touch you, my Songbird, it is stained hands that caress you. Dirtied hands that open you. When there is a knock in the middle of the night, and the guy opens the door to be shot, I am the one who knocks. I am the villain that even the villains are scared of. I am Lord Voldemort.” He was silent for a moment, staring at Harry who stared back completely stunned. Then, casually, he turns back to the stove.

Harry tried his best to process what was just said to him. He stared at Tom, his Tom, and found a stranger. “You’re,” he tried to say. “You’re a villain, Tom?”

“Yes,” Tom said. “Hogwarts is my home. I love this city, and so I do what I can to protect it from itself. As I told you, I’ve grew up in an orphanage as a child. I had nothing. It was a man like me who picked me off the streets, showed me the dangers of Hogwarts’ underbelly, along with its beauty. I’ve found out who my parents were because of him, however at that point he was more of a father to me than my actual father. He taught me how to be a man.”

“Was he... a villain like you?” Harry asked carefully.

“No, he was not,” Tom said. “He had connections, yes, however everything I’ve made, I have built myself. My own connections, my own followers. It took me a long time, but for the last year Hogwarts has been mine. I own this city, and it is under my villainous protection.” Harry just nodded dimly.

Tom had finished cooking by now, and he returned to the table with two plates. “You’re not running away?” he asked.

“No,” Harry said softly.

“Are you scared?”

“No,” Harry said, surprising himself. “I’m not.”

“Do you still want me to be your villain, Songbird?” Tom asked.

Harry’s eyes flickered. He breathed shallowly as he looked up to see Tom giving him an intense stare. Harry felt like his entire body froze before his heart worked in overdrive, blood pumping everywhere and his body swelling with heat. His face turned red, his forehead started to sweat, and he felt his hands shake nervously as his dick became erect. He opened his mouth and found that his voice was dry. Tom’s stare never faltered, never softened. He did not reach over to Harry to comfort him or support him. He just stared. Harry forced his voice to work, feeling both scared and exhilarated. “Yes… Daddy,” he said.

Tom’s gaze did not soften, however he leaned back, and instantly there was a cup of water in front of Harry. The younger emptied the cup in a few gulps and breathed heavily. Tom did not move as he waited for Harry to regulate his breathing. When the younger man did, Tom took the glass from Harry and filled it again.

“Tom…”

“Yes Harry?”

“I love you,” Harry confessed.

Tom smiled and turned to face him. “I love you too, always had since the moment I spotted my eyes on you.” He stepped back to the table and placed the glass of water down, his hand moving to hold Harry by his chin. “You are mine, Songbird. Mine forever. Do you like that?”

“Yes, sir,” Harry breathed.

“Then let us eat,” Tom smiled, “and celebrate our love. And afterwards, you will tell me everything about your wrists, okay Songbird?”

“Yes Daddy,” Harry nodded, smiling at Tom. “Daddy?”

“Hmm?”

“Love you,” Harry grinned. Tom chuckled and shook his head affectionately, “Eat, boy.”

They ate their lunch together. Harry couldn’t help but be amazed at how good everything tasted. He looked up at Tom in shocked, which caused the twenty-nine year old to chuckle. “The man who raised me was Italian, as was his wife. They taught me everything I knew, from running the underworld to cooking. Both, Songbird, for impressing my future spouse.”

“You want to get married?” he asked.

“Of course,” Tom nodded. Harry hummed.

“I never really thought about it,” he admitted.

“That can be a conversation for another day,” Tom said. “Finish your food, Songbird.”

Harry quickly finished his plate and waited silently for Tom to finish his. When Tom did, he took both dishes and placed them in the sink to be washed later. Harry immediately stand to do them, but Tom stopped him. “You can clean them next time, Harry,” he said. “Right now, you are my guest.”

Harry blushed at that. “Okay,” he whispered, and Tom took his hand again. “Come along my love,” Tom said, and pulled him through the open archway next to the stairs. They walked down a beautiful hallway that was painted white with dark mahogany doors. Harry noticed, however, that there were no pictures. Tom opened one of the doors and pulled Harry through.

They were in a library, with bookshelves filling the walls and each shelf stuffed with books. There was one wall that was free from bookshelves, instead having a wide window that opened to the hilly plains that surrounded the house. Tom brought Harry towards the window, and the two sat in a loveseat that faced it. Tom held Harry close, and Harry was thankful for the sunlight that fell down on them. The window was opened, and a cool November air drifted in, causing Harry to snuggle closer to Tom.

“Take your time Songbird,” Tom said.

Harry paled slightly. This was where they were going to talk about it? About everything that happened to him, to Draco. Harry closed his eyes and sighed. “If I tell you her name, what will you do?” he asked.

“Someone like that, who has hurt my Songbird so much that he feels like he needs to hide himself,” Tom said. “I will deal with them personally.”

Harry breathed out. He refused to look at Tom until he was over. With a final long breath, collecting himself, he began.

...

Harry could not believe that Draco and Blaise started to date without telling him! They were both sixteen, walking hand in hand down the street. “Like honestly! I thought you two were supposed to be like my second dads! Why didn’t you tell me you two were dating?”

“We were waiting until our wedding,” Draco drawled.

“Oh my god—no way you bitch!” Harry laughed. “No if my friend dads are getting every single thing that I offer! I am going to interrogate _both_ of you to make sure that you are right for each other!”

“You’re really going to be that son?” Draco laughed.

“Fuck yes I am!” Harry smiled. He looked around and pulled Draco’s arm, “Come on, I’m feeling a little hungry.”

“You want to go to the usual place?” Draco asked.

“Yes! And invite Blaise so I can yell at him too!” Harry said. Draco laughed and nodded. He pulled out his phone and quickly texted his new boyfriend as they walked down the street. They stopped by an alleyway and Draco pulled him towards it, “This is actually a neat shortcut I found last time we met up,” he said. “Beats walking down a block both ways.”

The two started walking down the alleyway, lost in their own little worlds. They were oblivious to the world around them, until suddenly black bags were thrust on their heads. Harry screamed, scared at the sudden darkness and rough hands that grabbed them. An unfamiliar teenage voice said, “Shut up Potter, or we’ll make this worst than it needs to be.” Harry still screamed and he felt a strong force knock against his head before everything faded away.

He woke up still wearing the hood. He was terrified. His feet and arms felt stiff. He felt a hard chair pressed against him, and there was now a rag in his mouth. Next to him, he could hear Draco’s muffled screaming, more in anger than pain. He didn’t know where they were, what was happening.

Suddenly, their hoods were off, and Harry was blinded by light. He groaned against his gag as his eyes adjusted to what was around him. It was hard to adjust, however, as there were two large spotlights aimed directly at him and Draco. They were what looked to be in a basement, with an old cement walls and ceilings. They were in old wooden armchairs, their hands and legs tied tightly with rope, their wrists pointing upwards and rope tied around their hands, and elbow, leaving the area in-between easily accessible. Harry could feel two people standing behind them, and when he turned his head to look at Draco, he saw two older teenagers that did not look familiar to him.

Harry was scared, terrified, however as he looked at Draco, instead of fear, he saw anger, a real anger that both comforted Harry, and made him terrified even more. “Hello Potter, Malfoy.”

Draco’s angry grunts only increased as Harry turned to see the person walking up in front of them. The lights made it difficult for him to see her until she was standing directly in front of them. His heart dropped dramatically. Pansy Parkinson was never a beautiful teenager. She had a pug-like nose, and a smile that went on for too long. Her eyes were dark, like greedy voids that swallowed and hated everything it seen, and her hair was a frizzy mess. “I’m so glad that you two decided to join us,” she smiled. “You see, I think we’re going to have a lot of fun today.”

Something glinted, and Harry’s eyes fell onto her hands. She had two very large kitchen knives. Harry screamed loudly and struggled in his chair. _I’m going to die. I’m going to die. Oh god I’m going to die!_ His thoughts ran through his head. Parkinson laughed at Harry’s reaction and looked up at the two teens behind them. “Ungag them,” she said. They took off Draco’s gag first.

“Parkinson you fucking bitch, I swear to god when I get out of this fucking chair I will have you arrested, and your life turned to fucking shreds!” Draco yelled. A hand immediately pressed against Draco’s mouth and his screamed were muffled.

“Draco, Draco, do you have to be such a loud faggot?” Pansy asked. She stepped towards Draco and glared at him. “You think you’re so better than any of us, don’t you Malfoy? Why? Just because you have money? Because you’re wealthy? And you, Potter. You think you’re so pretty, don’t you Potter? You think you’re special because you’re Malfoy’s whore? You’re nothing but a disgusting stank.”

Harry pleaded against his gag. Pansy looked at the teen behind him and nodded. His gag was removed, and Harry immediately cried. “Parkinson please, let us go! We didn’t do anything—”

“LIAR!” Parkinson yelled. She turned to Harry “You goddamn liar!” Harry screamed as with a sudden strike, Pansy brought the knife against his arm, giving cutting him. Pearls of blood bled out and Harry shuddered at the pain.

“You boys have made my life hell! I’ve gotten everything I wanted! Money, popularity, boys, friends—everything! And both of you continue to mock me! To humiliate me! This? All of this is just me returning the favor,” Pansy yelled.

Draco bit the hand that was holding him mouth. The guy behind him yelped in pain and his hand flew off of Draco’s mouth. “Dead parents’ money cannot buy class, Parkinson,” he snarled. “And you started all of this by bullying Harry. You’re nothing but a pathetic little junkie in our path—FUCK!” Pansy has cut Draco’s arm as well, a shallow cut that blood slowly pearled out of.

“Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!” Pansy screamed. “You two faggots made my life horrible! You disgusting pieces of shit! Everything about my life would have been perfect if you two weren’t around.” She looked up at the two behind Harry and Draco. “Gag them,” she ordered. There was hesitation because she screamed, “NOW!” and Harry immediately felt the familiar disgusting taste of cloth in his mouth. He struggled, everything feeling hot as he cried. Pansy cooed at him. “Oh Harry, lighten up. You deserve everything that is going to happen here Harry, just smile and accept it like any other cock.”

She held both knives in front of Harry, their sharp edges teasing his wrists. “You two take care of Malfoy,” she ordered. One of the guys grunted and moved in front of Draco, also holding two knives. Parkinson gave a sinister, insane grin. “Don’t worry I won’t kill you,” she hissed at Harry. “I’ll just make sure you never forget what you are. A faggot should always have scars on their wrists.” She laughed and pressed the knifes down.

Harry gave out a blood curling scream against the gag. He felt like everything was on fire. Pain shot through him and blood immediately bled from the two diagonal cuts Parkinson gave Harry. “Oh fuck!” she swore. It was too much blood from a simple cut. Harry started to feel light-headed from the heat inside him. Though it was hard to tell through his screaming.

“This isn’t fun anymore,” one of the teens said, sounding scared.

“I think you’ve cut too deep!”

“Sh-shut up!” Parkinson said, starting to freak out. “It’s fine—just cut Malfoy!”

“I-I don’t know—he looks like he’s going to die!”

“Useless!” Pansy yelled. She pushed the boy away and screamed as she slashed frantically at Draco’s wrist, giving him a myriad of shallow cuts.

“We-we’re getting out of here!” the boy Pansy pushed said, and they both ran out of the basement. Parkinson yelled after them, but Harry was starting to lose his hearing. He couldn’t focus around him. The room was slowly going dark, a haziness enveloping him as sounds started to become distant echoes, and the pain dulled everything around him until he could feel nothing.

...

“I woke up in the hospital,” Harry said. “My mom wouldn’t stop crying. I was unconscious for four whole days as they tried to save my life. The boys were right, she cut too deeply into one of my major veins. It was later I found out that it was Blaise who found us and immediately called the police. The two boys were immediately arrested, but their leader basically vanished. I never saw her until that day in your office. But I’ll never forget what she did to us.” Harry didn’t realize he was crying until he felt Tom’s finger against his cheek.

He sniffled and looked down at his wrists, which was covered by his shirt. Slowly, gently, he pulled up the sleeves. His skin was smooth, flawless until they reached the wrists. There were many small thin white lines of scars that a cutter would normally have, however Tom knew better than to assume Harry did it to himself. Especially after the story he was just told. However, the biggest scars were two diagonal lines, thick and angry. The red scar went over the smaller white ones, and Tom’s heart wept for his boyfriend.

Gently, Tom reached out for Harry’s hands. Harry did not stop him. Tom took Harry’s wrists in his hands and brought them up towards his lips. He gently kissed each scar, keeping his lips pressed against one before moving to the next. “My love,” he said, sounding sorrowful. Harry cried, never hearing Tom sound so sad before. “Please, my love, my Harry, my beautiful Songbird, who did this? Who caused you so much pain in my city?”

Harry was silent for a moment. He collected himself and finally looked at Tom, his emerald eyes dulled, and voice cold. “What will you do? If I tell you? Daddy… Voldemort, what will you do?”

“Revenge. I will have her, and the boys suffer every lasting scar, every lasting cut a hundredfold. They will know pain, misery, agony that they have never dreamed before. They will know to fear my name,” Tom said. No, not Tom. Harry realized as he was staring at his love, it was not Tom who was talking right now, but Voldemort. Lord Voldemort, his love, his villain, his protector.

“Can I watch?” Harry asked. “Please, Voldemort.”

“Yes, my Songbird,” Voldemort said, giving a sadistic smile. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Harry nodded and returned to looking out the window. “The boys’ names were Marcus Belby and Edward Hilliard. They were imprisoned. But the girl’s name, the girl who disappeared, her name is Pansy Parkinson.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TL;DR: Pansy Parkinson had two boys kidnap Harry and Draco, tie to them a chair and Parkinson cut Harry's wrists, going too deeply by accident. Harry almost dies and Pansy runs away.


	12. Chapter 12

Ch. 12

Tom has never felt so betrayed. Anger boiled inside him, his hands stiffening as he held onto Harry. Pansy Parkinson. Pansy fucking Parkinson. Harry winced in Tom’s arm and he said in a small voice, “I’m sorry.”

Tom relaxed immediately and looked down at his Songbird. “No, no, you have nothing to be sorry for, I am. I’ve let my anger show when I shouldn’t have. And this anger is not towards you, but Parkinson.”

“Parkinson,” Harry repeated sadly.

“Yes, she until now, was my employee,” Tom said. “I had a habit of picking up teens when they were at their lowest and rise them up. Marcus is a stunning example of that, however unfortunately, I have done the same with Pansy Parkinson.” He spat her name out and glared out the window. “It seems that I was mistaken in showing her kindness. To think that such a wretched horrible girl could do such things! Even if she was in my employment, it goes everything I stand for!”

Harry pulled his legs closer to him, and saying sadly, “Why did you even hire her?”

“Because of how lost and pitiful she looked. She looked frightened, scared that somebody would see her. This was around four years ago; I had a meeting with one of my old employees. He was a disappointment, letting drugs go into a nearby school. I was just starting to build my empire and needed to get a foothold into the drug business, and so I had to show him and any others the intense consequences of displeasing me. I forced him to overdose, and as he was on the edge of death he begged me for forgiveness. I did not forgive him, and simply watched as he died in front of me and his people. I found her when the others left. She looked so miserable, so helpless, I couldn’t help myself and pick her up like a stray. She needed a place to hide, and I gave it to her, in return, she worked for me. And has been ever since.”

Harry gave out a sad sigh, looking at his wrists. “That must have been the day she gave me this,” he said bitterly. The same cold feeling came back inside Harry. He looked up at his lover and reached up, touching Tom’s face gently. “Daddy,” he whine. “I want to watch you kill her. I want to see my justice done. Please.”

“Of course my sweet Songbird,” Tom said gently. “But not today. Today it will be about relaxing you. Okay?”

Harry nodded and reached up as Tom carefully lifted his boy into his arms, holding Harry bridal style as Harry looped his arms around Tom’s neck. “I have a very special room I want to show you, my love,” Tom whispered.

“Show me, Daddy,” Harry whispered back.

Tom chuckled and carried Harry out of the room. They went back down the hallway into the small kitchen, this time taking the stairs that led up. The second floor was much like the first, with a pictureless hallway and many solid doors. Harry didn’t like that, but he decided to talk about it later. After all, this wasn’t his home. Tom carried him around the corner at the end of the hallway to a short dead end with only a bookshelf and a chair. Tom went to the bookshelf and pulled one of the books. There was a loud mechanical click, and Harry gasped as the wall opposite the chair pushed open, revealing an archway. “I couldn’t resist myself adding a few hidden rooms and passages,” Tom chuckled before carrying Harry through.

The wall closed behind them, but Harry was more enraptured about the room they were now in. It had a dark tone, the walls painted red with a black ceiling. On the walls were shelves filled with any and all sex toy and BDSM prop available. Chains, ropes, whips including several cat o’ nine tails whips, blindfolds, spreader bars and a large collection of dildos and vibrators, all neatly organized in size order. There was a pegging wooden bench with several plugs that gotten thicker and larger as it went along, along with a black leather St. Andrew’s Cross hanging both just above the large bed, as well as against a wall. Aside from the sex equipment, there were large mirrors and several dressers and wardrobes which Harry figured were filled with sexy outfits. “This is something,” Harry breathed. He felt a little overwhelmed.

“It’s a nice little play area,” Tom chuckled. “However, I will not be using any of this on you.”

“You won’t?” Harry asked. “Then why did you bring me up here?”

“I figured that you wanted to be alone,” Tom said softly. “And this room is my secret. Nobody knows about this. So, here, we won’t have anyone disturb us, my Songbird. As for why I won’t be using any of my toys on you, it is because we did not even begin to talk about what I have, and right now it is important for you to calm yourself and understand what you are getting into.”

“Oh, okay,” Harry nodded. Tom brought him to the four- post bed and placed him gently on it. It was soft, warm, and smelled freshly clean. Tom gently untied Harry’s shoes, slipping them off one by one as his Songbird laid there. “Daddy,” he whispered.

“Yes, Songbird?”

“Can I be blindfolded… please?” Harry asked in a small voice. Tom chuckled and nodded. He placed Harry’s shoes next to the bed and moved to a nearby dresser, opening a top drawer where many, many blindfolds were stored. He pulled out a black one and turned to look at his Songbird. He wanted to test how submissive and obedient the boy was.

“You’ll have to earn this, boy,” he said. “I want all of your clothes off.”

Harry did not hesitate. He quickly and efficiently took his clothes off until he was just laying in the bed, his flaccid dick looking cute nestled between his legs. Tom chuckled at this and sat at the edge of the bed. He took Harry’s glasses off and placed them on the bedside table. “I’ll be back in a moment, my precious Songbird,” he said. “There are some calls I need to make first. You will lay here and wait till I am back. Do not move, do you understand, boy?”

“Yes, Sir,” Harry nodded.

“Good boy, Songbird,” Tom praised. He slipped the black cloth over Harry’s eyes, and he raised his head slightly so Tom could tie the knot behind him. Harry laid his head back down and smiled as he didn’t feel the knot push against his head because of the soft pillows. Tom stared down at this peaceful form of his love and smiled. He combed his fingers through Harry’s hair and whispered, “I’ll be right back, my love.”

“Okay, Tom,” Harry said sweetly.

It was hard for Tom to leave the bed, however he did, and he made his way to the fake wall, leaving his separate room. He waited until the wall closed behind him, and he took a seat in the chair and pulled out his phone. “Bellatrix,” he said when the woman answered.

“My Lord?”

“I need someone to bring Pansy Parkinson in here immediately. Be as rough as you like,” he ordered, slipping easily into his Voldemort persona. “Afterwards, I need information on both a Marcus Belby and Edward Hilliard.”

“Of course My Lord,” Bellatrix said, “May I ask what Parkinson has done to make you angry?”

“You know your nephew’s scars? As well as Potter’s?” Voldemort asked.

“Yes, I was one of the policemen who arrived when Zabini called,” Bellatrix said.

“Then you should know that our dear Pansy Parkinson has played up,” Voldemort said, letting his anger know. “She was the one who planned and executed the entire affair that almost gotten your nephew, and my Songbird killed.”

Bellatrix was silent for a moment before saying, “I’ll bring her in myself.”

“Very well,” Voldemort said, and he hung up. He called a second number. “Crabbe, remind me, who is currently in charge of our drug branch?”

“On top? Yaxley, my Lord,” Crabbe said.

“Give him a bullet, make my new pet do it. In the knee if you will, I still want him living,” Voldemort commanded.

“Of course my lord,” Crabbe said.

“Good, and while Yaxley recovers, I am putting you in charge. If anyone even hints to stepping out of line, you may have your fun with them,” Voldemort said.

“Thank you my lord, you are too generous,” Crabbe said. Tom hung up and pocketed his phone. He went back into the room to see his Songbird still laying on the bed. Tom teased his Songbird, letting his hand just barely touch the boy’s body as he moved from his foot, slowly up his leg, ignoring the growing member and up Harry’s torso until he found his neck. “We have an hour before our guest arrive,” Tom purred. “And I have an idea on how to pass the time. All you have to do, is say yes.”

He let go of Harry’s throat, “Yes Daddy,” Harry moaned, and Tom took his mouth.

Pansy was shoved into the dungeon beneath the house. Bellatrix didn’t even pretend to care for her wellbeing, pushing the twenty-year-old halfway down the stairs. “Oops,” she snorted. The girl was gagged, so all she could do was whimper against her gag as she cried. “Husband,” Bellatrix ordered, “be a dear and tie her up to the chair. Rabastan, go find our lord, please.” Bellatrix and Rodolphus walked into the dungeon, Rodolphus dragging Parkinson towards the chair while Bellatrix started to look in her purse for something.

“Left it in the fucking car—hold on one second,” Bellatrix said. Rodolphus had just finished tying Parkinson’s legs to the chair when he looked up. Bellatrix went towards them and searched Parkinson, making a happy noise when she felt and pulled out a compact mirror in Parkinson’s back pocket. “Thank you,” she said, opening the mirror and went back to her purse to pretty up a bit.

Parkinson was fully restrained to the chair when the door to the dungeon opened once more, and Rabastan walked in, followed by Voldemort and, surprisingly enough, Harry. Bellatrix raised an eyebrow at this. “He wishes to be here,” Voldemort said in a way of explanation. “Well… aren’t one of you going to offer a chair for my Songbird?”

Rabastan and Rodolphus immediately jumped, getting a spare chair for Harry, and placing it next to Bellatrix, who just finished applying her lipstick. “Hello Potter,” she said, glancing at him but still focused on the mirror, “What do you think of this color?” She pursed her lips for emphasis.

“Um,” Harry said uncertainly. “It’s very… red.”

Bellatrix frowned at that but did not comment. Voldemort stepped closer to Parkinson, getting everyone’s attention. Harry did not know when he got it, but now there was a kitchen knife in his hands. He played with it idly as he asked, “What of our friends Marcus and Edward?”

“Still in jail, my Lord, they are both serving a seven year sentence,” Bellatrix said.

“Make sure they never end it,” Voldemort ordered. He took the knife and slowly dragged it cross the side of Pansy’s cheek, leaving a long shallow cut and cutting the gag. It fell and Pansy immediately started crying, “My Lord, please, why are you doing this?”

“You should know, after all, you’ve almost killed my Songbird before I even gotten the chance to meet him,” Voldemort said coldly, “isn’t that right, Harry?”

“Yes,” Harry nodded shortly, he did his best to keep his voice as even and cold as Voldemort’s. “She kidnapped me and Draco, and almost made me bled out to death.” He held his wrists up, showing Parkinson the scars.

“But—but that was years ago, and it was a total accident! I didn’t want to kill you Harry, I wanted to scare you—to scare Draco! It was an accident!”

“An accident that nearly lead to my love’s death,” Voldemort said. “You’ve almost killed someone that belongs to your Lord, someone who is my priority over this whole city. I hope you understand what that means.”

Slowly, realization dawned on Pansy Parkinson. She struggled even harder against the rope holding her, “NO!” she screamed out, “I didn’t mean to—it was an accident I swear! I’m sorry!”

“Sorry?” Voldemort laughed, “Sorry? Oh Parkinson, you will be Sorry. …” He lifted his knife, posed to strike.

“Wait,” Harry stood up. Voldemort did, and looked back at him. “I want to do it,” Harry said. Voldemort raised an eyebrow at this before smirking. “Of course my Songbird,” he said, lowering the knife. He turned and held it out for Harry.

Harry stood and walked up to Voldemort. Their eyes met and Harry swallowed hard, steeling himself as he took the knife. Voldemort stepped aside and Harry inhaled, feeling a cold hatred fill him as he stared at Parkinson.

He stepped up to her and held the knife up. “Please Potter, it was just an accident,” Parkinson pleaded, her tears mixing with the blood from her long cut. Harry watched with odd fascination as the tears fell over the cut, mixing with the red blood to create a sleek reddish stain on her cheeks. He felt something boiling in his stomach, and his hand started to shake the long it held the knife. Parkinson kept pleading, but Harry slowly became deafen to the world around him. He tried to move his hand. It didn’t move. It just hanged there, holding the sharp knife as he looked down at the crying girl. He couldn’t do it. The bile that boiled in his stomach exploded, and he dropped the knife immediately as he doubled over, throwing up and coughing right in front of everyone.

Shame filled Harry, a hateful shame that caused him to push the hand that touched his shoulder, and he ran away.

Voldemort watched as his Songbird ran away. A shameful anger rose in him as he picked up the knife and jammed it into Parkinson’s leg. “Clean up the bile,” he commanded, “I will be back.” He walked out of the dungeon, hurrying up only when the door closed behind him. He had a feeling he knew where his Songbird was.

He found Harry in his playroom, sitting on the edge of the bed his knees curled up against his chest. Tom moved and silently sat next to Harry.

“I’m so stupid,” Harry said sadly, “thinking I could do it. I just embarrassed you in front of them.”

“Who? My people? They know better than to think less than me, or else they will end up in Parkinson’s chair,” Tom said with a dark chuckle. He fixed Harry’s hair, brushing it to the side and smiled softly. “No one will ever think less of you for not being able to do something,” Tom said. “You are amazing Harry, you are wonderful, kind, a shining light in my life. I want you Harry for those qualities. For all those amazing things that make you, you. It does not matter to me if my spouse cannot kill or not, if he can or cannot do what I expect my people to do. All I expect of you Harry, is that you live and develop to be the best version of yourself that you can be.”

“Tom,” Harry said, looking up at him. “I want to be stronger; I want to—”

“You need to relax now, my innocent Songbird.”

“I don’t want to be innocent,” Harry said roughly. “I want to be in your world Tom, please.”

Tom’s eyes grew dark. An authoritative aura came off him that Harry has barely seen before. “Then you must trust me completely, Songbird, and do as I say.”

“I will,” Harry nodded.

“Good. Get naked and kneel on the bed,” Voldemort ordered. Harry dried his tears and nodded, moving to obey. He took off his clothes slowly, folding them neatly. He left his shoes at the base of the bed and knelt naked on the edge. Voldemort’s hand immediately went to his throat, holding him as they kissed. “This is your only chance to say no, Harry. I need you to relax, and this is the only way I see how. I am going to blindfold you, place noise canceling headphones on you so that you cannot hear or see. You will be tied to the bed, and a spreader bar will be attached to your ankles. Two vibrators will be attached to you, one to your cock and the other in your hole. I will be in complete control of them. If you accept, nod your head and say ‘Yes, Sir.’ If not, you are free to leave.”

“Yes, Sir,” Harry nodded immediately. Voldemort couldn’t help but smile in pride. He walked around the room, gathering the toys he needed. He first tied the blindfold around Harry’s eyes, and placed the headphones on his Songbird. He snapped his fingers a couple times on each side and smiled when he boy did not react. He led Harry to lay down on the bed, and took his hands, tying them to the bed frames. He grabbed Harry’s face, kissing him roughly. He licked and kissed his way down Harry’s taunt body until he reached Harry’s lock. He licked and sucked at it until it started to harden. Still flaccid, Voldemort slipped a cock that vibrated on and forced the boy to get a full erection. Satisfied, Voldemort next took the spreader bar and carefully strapped Harry’s ankles in before pulling the bar to it’s full length. The bottom two posts had subtle hooks at various lengths, so Voldemort was able to keep Harry’s legs elevated and spread, revealing his delicious pink boypussy. The main vibrator was long and wide. He lubed it and Harry’s pussy before pushing gently. He loved the sight of Harry opening up, accepting the vibrator openly, almost greedily. Harry gasped and moaned at the intrusion, and Voldemort chuckled. It was the perfect length to agitate his prostate.

Voldemort took a step back and drank in the sight before him. He finally had Harry. The boy was exactly where he belonged. “My beautiful wife,” he purred. “Soon, my boy, soon.” He took his phone out and started the cock ring first. Harry gasped and groaned, his ass already tightening against the vibrator as he thrust into the air. Next, Voldemort turned on the vibrator in Harry’s ass and the boy screamed in pleasure. Voldemort pocketed his phone and moved to Harry’s side, slowly pulling one side of the headphones off of Harry’s ear. “Enjoy the sensation, Harry, I expect your balls to be empty and your mind relaxed when I return.”

“Yes Daddy,” Harry moaned, and Voldemort returned the headphones. He left the room and returned to the dungeon where everything was exactly as he left it, except there was no bile on the floor.

“Let’s get this over with,” Voldemort said. He pulled the knife from Parkinson’s leg and got to work. For a full half hour, Voldemort slashed at Parkinson’s body, her screams filling the room as blood flew everywhere. He kept the cuts shallow, nonlethal, but still causing pain. Voldemort’s hands, arms and shirt were stained with blood at the end, and he stared at the mess before him. Breathing shallowly, Parkinson’s body looked more like a cross stitch of long red cuts with blood-stained flesh in between than a human being. Voldemort stopped and took a few steps back to admire his work. She was still living, however everyone in the room knew that she was a dead woman waiting. He thought about letting her bled out, to slowly die and have her final moments be in total agony, however the woman was unconscious, passed out from the pain. So, he ended up just jamming the knife into Parkinson’s heart, and stepped back. “Clean this up,” he said to Rabastan. “Rodolphus, Bellatrix, call the others. We need a full meeting. I will join you momentarily once I’ve cleaned.”

Voldemort stepped away and returned to his own bedroom. He took out his phone and made sure that both devices were still working on Harry, their pulses waving in intensities. He decided to put them both to max as he showered.

The meeting room in his home already were filled. Voldemort walked silently past everyone, who all stood and bowed in respect, and sat in his seat at the head of the table. “Grindelwald,” he drawled simply. “Tell me about him.”

Goyle stood up. “He’s two months away, but he is approaching. He is approaching from the west, and from my sources, his spies have already infiltrated Hogwarts.”

Voldemort nodded, “I want them identified and eliminated. What else?”

“He has an army, a proper army,” Avery said. “More than twice our forces alone, however with the Italians, we will just barely have enough to equal him in numbers. I’ve already asked our new friend to bring them along, as well as had our recruiters start an aggressive recruiting campaign.”

Voldemort nodded and looked around. “What weaponry will Grindelwald bring?”

“He’s a lovely bastard, a man after my own heart,” Bellatrix sighed. “He’s known to be using any means possible to hurt whoever he wants. He doesn’t even fear having his actions shown and known, so much that he even killed a small crowd during a news broadcast only to get one man who bumped into him.”

“So how would you suggest we counter this?” Voldemort asked.

“Sniper shoot him before he even gets in our city,” Bellatrix said. “Otherwise, we should step up our attack forces. We have until the new year.”

Voldemort nodded. “Indeed. Very well, for the remainder of the year, our money will shift to prioritizing recruitment and weapons. Incentivize joining us, make sure they are desperate, or in need of money. The younger members, teenagers, and high school students will be couriers while the older recruits will be trained to be our soldiers. We must be prepared for Grindelwald. If he even steps foot into our city, there will be hell to pay. My wedding with my Songbird is on the horizon! I want this Grindelwald dead and his forces burning before then. I will have his head as the main decoration of my wedding table! Is this understood?”

“Yes, My Lord!” the table said.

“Good. Dismissed.”


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Harry found himself once again with Blaise and Draco, the two snuggling on either side of him as they relaxed on their large couch, a movie playing on their television. “Last night, I told Tom about what happened,” Harry said softly, holding up his wrists.

“How did he take it?” Blaise asked hesitantly.

“Really well,” Harry smiled. “He kissed them, licked them… we did it a lot,” he blushed, “and then he shared a secret with me.”

“Really? What is it?” Draco asked. Harry gave a smirk and shook his head.

“Nope, I’m not telling you daddies,” he said, “That is a secret between Songbird and his Daddy.”

“Oh really?” Blaise asked, looking at Harry, “So you have a new Daddy now?” He chuckled and looked at Draco, “Our boy is trading his parents for a Sugar Daddy!”

“He is not a Sugar Daddy!” Harry gasped.

“It’s tragic,” Draco sighed, “to think that our Harry would be a gold digger.”

“I am not—you guys are awful!” Harry gasped, the other two laughing.

“Calm down love,” Draco laughed, kissing Harry’s cheek, “let your daddies joke.”

Harry rolled his eyes and leaned towards Blaise, “You two are just,” he sighed.

“The best dads, we know,” Blaise chuckled, he hooked an arm around Harry. “So, how are you and your Daddy? Besides the sex and secrets.”

“We’re doing great,” Harry smiled. “It’s amazing actually, like, I don’t know how to describe it without feeling corny or sappy.” He struggled with his words, frowning when he couldn’t find them before looking between them, “Draco, Blaise, how long were you two dating before you realized that the other was the one for you?”

Draco and Blaise glanced at each other. “There wasn’t something specific,” Draco said. “We just sort of clicked together, like after one kiss we knew that we would spend the rest of our lives together.”

Blaise nodded, “Yeah, it was like the first moment I got that blond in my hands, I knew I would never let go. Why Harry?”

Harry blushed and bit his lip, “I just think that maybe I finally found him,” he said. “The One… the villain I was always looking for. When I think about Tom, he’s just perfect. He’s sweet and kind and strict and rough when you need him to be. He treats me like a prince but knows that I hate being one. And last night was just magical. We did things I never thought I would be into.”

“Such as?”

“He had sudden business to attend to,” Harry said, blushing as he remembered it. “So he tied me to the bed. Blindfolded me, put on headphones so I couldn’t see or hear and then, he placed vibrators on me. One on my cock and one in my ass. I had no idea how long I’ve been there, just at the complete mercy of the vibrators! It was like my entire world was them, and it just kept building and building until I orgasmed and then it kept going! I kept on orgasming until I felt for sure that my nuts were empty—and then the headphones were off, the plug was ripped out and replaced by Tom—and he fucked me and whispered these things in my ear that just turned me on so much. He bred me and squeezed two more orgasms out of me. It felt magical, kinky, right—fuck I can’t explain it!”

Blaise gave a low whistle and looked at Draco, giving him a knowing smile. “Well, Christmas is coming up,” he said, “you can always gather your thoughts and try to put it into a present.”

Harry gasped, “That’s a great idea, Blaise!” He smiled. He perked up and stood in front of both of them, stretching. “Uhh how long until Christmas again?” he blushed.

“Harry? Really?” Draco said, “You really forgot that?”

“Let’s see,” Draco drawled, “Considering today is December 1st, and our semester ends the thirteenth… how many days do we have until Christmas?”

“Even that you don’t get a gift from me,” Harry said, “Look I had a lot going on, I’m sorry that I forgot about the date!” He huffed and crossed his arms. “So I got some time to get him a gift, that’s fair.”

“When will you give it to him?” Blaise asked. “Don’t you normally go home for the holidays?”

“Oh right,” Harry blushed, “Yeah…” he thought about it, before looking at the two of them, “Is Christmas a good time to bring your boyfriend over to meet the family?”

“Assuming that he doesn’t have any rich daddy plans of his own, maybe,” Blaise chuckled. “Though I think this is a two person decision Harry, and the daddy you’re looking for isn’t here.”

“Oh, right,” Harry blushed. He looked at the both of them and thought, “Is it too late to ask him?”

“You have the month—”

“I mean the time,” Harry said.

“I think it would be better to focus on our finals right now, Harry,” Blaise said. “You can always ask him next weekend.”

“Yeah, I guess I can,” Harry nodded. “And in the meantime I’ll think about his gift!”

“And your finals! God help you if I hear you fail one,” Draco warned.

“Oh, right,” Harry blinked. “Finals too.” He sighed and shook his head, “I honestly forgot I was a student yesterday.”

“Oh Harry,” Blaise sighed. “That’s it, as your Daddy, you’re school-grounded. You’re not leaving my or Draco’s sight until the semester ends.”

Blaise kept good on his word. He called Tom the very same day and told the older man that Harry was grounded until all of his finals were done. Instead of being angry, Tom just chuckled, highly amused at this, and told Blaise that he will back him up if the need arose. Harry tried on multiple occasions to call Tom, trying to set up dates but each time Tom replied, “Listen to your Daddies, Songbird. Focus on your studies. That is an order.” Grumbling, Harry obeyed, and kept his head down as he finished the rest of his papers and prepared for his finals.

Draco and Blaise made him live in the library as they studied. Harry was always a decent student, however every time they studied he felt that his head was being stuffed with too much knowledge that he was going to implode. He was relieved that he only had four finals, and that they were all in the first week of exams. It was a hellish week, Harry barely slept and whenever he was the first to finish, he would wait until someone else handed in their exam.

However, when the week was finally over, Harry ran to Tom.

He waited in Tom’s office, not even wasting his time going to the circle of secretaries on the ground floor. The boy just walked into the building as though he belonged there and took the elevator up to the top floor. “Hello,” he smiled at Tom’s personal secretary, a pretty blonde. “Is Tom in?”

“No, Mr. Riddle is in a meeting—”

“Great! Oh don’t tell him I’m here, okay?” Harry smiled, and walked into Tom’s office. He couldn’t help but giggle. His last exam ended only an hour ago, and he really missed touching Tom. He moved to Tom’s desk, slowly unzipping his jacket and putting it along with his hat and gloves on one of the chairs in front of it. He moved to Tom’s chair and reclined in it, spinning so he was facing the window and watch the snow falling outside.

He heard footsteps ten minutes later, and smirked to himself, doing his best to suppress his giggles. He turned the chair just as the door opened and smiled widely at Tom. “Hello, lover,” he purred.

Tom chuckled, staring at Harry. “What exactly are you doing here, Songbird?” he asked.

“My last final is over! And I miss my Daddy,” Harry said, grinning at Tom as he made his way towards him. Tom picked him up with ease and sat down, with Harry on his lap. “Plus, there are some things I wanted to ask you.”

“Oh really?” Tom chuckled, his hands resting on Harry’s ass. “What is it you want to ask, Songbird?”

Harry smirked, his arms going around Tom’s neck. “Do you have any plans for Christmas?”

“Besides fucking you? No,” Tom said.

Harry blushed as Tom thrust into him. “Tom,” he whispered, “your secretary.”

“Will not interrupt us, now Songbird, what is it you want to ask me?” Tom chuckled, his hands already moving to unbuckle Harry’s pants.

“Christmas—I want to know if you want to visit my parents with me on Christmas,” Harry said.

“You want me to meet your parents?” Tom asked. Harry nodded. Tom smirked. “Of course, Songbird, I would love to. Now, sit up so I can get your pussy out.”

Harry blushed, “Everything is about sex and violence with you,” he teased, taking his pants off either way. Tom fished his hard cock from his pants and thrust into Harry’s willing hole as the two kissed. Harry gasped, his hand moving to his mouth to muffled himself. Tom ripped it away, “I want to hear you scream, boy,” he growled and started to slowly thrust, spreading Harry’s hole more and more. It was still a little loose from last night’s fun.

Tom fucked Harry in the chair before grabbing hold of him tightly, standing up and sprawling Harry onto his desk. There, his thrusts turned more animalistic as his cock slide in and out more and more easily, the man grunting and rutting against the boy until, with a growl, he came inside Harry. “Sorry to keep it short,” Tom breathed, pulling his cock out. “I have another meeting.”

“Where?” Harry asked.

“They’re coming here,” Tom said.

A dirty idea came to Harry. He slipped off the desk, pulled his pants up and moved to grab his coat. He placed it in the closet and ran back to Tom’s desk, moving under it. “What kind of meeting is it?” he breathed.

“Voldemort is having one of his men to update him on a situation,” Tom said.

“Then you don’t need to get up,” Harry smirked. On his knees, he got Tom back into his chair and unzipped his pants, pulling out his still hard cock. “You can call him in,” Harry mewled, “I’ll just be keeping this warm.”

He opened his mouth and swallowed Tom, keeping still as he adjusted his breathing so that he wouldn’t choke. It tasted hot and musky, the smell driving the younger man wild, but he stayed still as the cock jerked and grew inside him. Tom fixed his desk and ordered his secretary to let Goyle in.

Goyle walked into the office, carrying with him a large browsing book. “Sir,” he bowed, “like you’ve ordered, I’ve brought in my wife’s catalog, here are designs of all the dresses she made, along with sample materials so they can see how they feel.”

“Excellent, put them here,” Voldemort said, indicating the table. “What is the update with the Italians?”

“We’ve uh sent our friend like you’ve instructed,” Goyle said. “Avery told me our friend is doing well getting them on our side. Of course, there are some men who don’t feel too keen, but we already took care of them.”

“Good—is this satin?” Voldemort asked, stroking a sample cloth.

“Yes it is, we have it in a large variety of colors, though I suppose, you would like it in white,” Goyle said with a nervous chuckle.

“I don’t like how satin looks on him, it’s a bit heavy, too much is hidden,” Voldemort said, rolling his hips a little to push deeper into Harry’s mouth.

“Well it is very durable, sir,” Goyle said. “It uhh is one of the more common—”

“This dress will not be common!” Voldemort snarled. “You want my Songbird to wear something _common_ on our Wedding day?” Harry gasped around the cock, gagging slightly. Voldemort pulled his cock back a little to give his Songbird breathing room before pushing back in. Wedding? He wanted to marry Harry?

“Yes well no, we uhh wouldn’t—there’s chiffon,” Goyle stuttered, “but that needs to be layered. It has a floaty, weightless look, however it snags easily. Very delicate—“He turned the page and allowed his lord to feel the fabric. He did not look impressed, and Goyle cleared his throat, his brow starting to sweat. “Has Crabbe found a suitable replacement for Yaxley?” Voldemort asked. “Someone who won’t let such a vile creature like Parkinson live.”

“Um not yet Sir,” Goyle said.

“We also need a new torturer... someone who isn’t as repulsive as Greyback,” Voldemort hummed. “He was good training for our friend, however.” His cock shuttered in Harry’s mouth, and the young adult tasted a mixture of pre-cum and piss. Harry swallowed as he felt a sense of perverted, dirty desire, pushing his head further down Voldemort’s cock.

“Yes sir, we’re um—we’re looking for one,” Goyle stuttered. “There are a few who umm just gotten out of jail—”

“No, those people are too careless,” Voldemort said. “We need someone who knows the human body, who knows how to inflict the greatest of pain without leaving a mess, and who can have the same erotic thrill of seeing a tortured body just as a naked man or woman.” He paused, thinking, “I want you to look into mercenaries. Give me a list of twenty you think will make a suitable replacement.” He started to flip through the book. Harry could hear the pages turn as the man subtly rock his hips, using Harry’s mouth as a fuck toy. Harry did not dare move as he did this, the man stopping only when he talked.

“This right here, I like the feel of this,” Voldemort said. “My Songbird’s wedding dress would look marvelous with this along with lace around his shoulders.”

“Perfect my lord,” Goyle said, “I will tell my wife immediately. Er, sir, if I may ask if you have any particular color?”

“The lace will be white, obviously, while I am feeling the dress will be emerald,” Voldemort ordered. “It must flow, while still holding the regal that is to be expected of being my wife.”

“Understood, my lord,” Goyle nodded. He closed the book and bowed. He turned to leave, the doors swinging shut behind him.

“Don’t move,” Voldemort ordered, glancing down sadistically at Harry. “I have a small need to use the bathroom.” Piss exploded from his cock and Harry did his best to swallow over and over until it stopped, and his stomach felt full.

Harry wiped his mouth and looked up as Tom pulled his cock out. “Two things,” Harry said, getting up to just sit on Tom’s desk, “One, piss is on my kink list.”

“Good to know,” Tom chuckled.

“And two—when were you going to tell me we’re getting married?” Harry asked.

“Christmas,” Tom said simply. “I was going to ask you on Christmas to marry me.”

“Then, why plan before?” Harry blushed.

“Because I knew you would say yes,” Tom chuckled. He stood up and wrapped his arms around Harry. “Feel us, Harry. Everything we do, everything we say and touch, it just feel so right. You are the lock, and I am your key. Don’t you feel it too?”

“I do,” Harry blushed. “I was actually talking to my friends about it.”

“Then you should know that you belong to me,” Tom chuckled. “Now and forever. My little Songbird.”

Harry looked up at Tom, their eyes meeting, “I do,” he whispered, his heart pounding as their lips met.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Christmas with the Potters

Harry’s parents agreed to having him bring Tom over for the holidays. With his finals over, Harry was able to focus on his book fully for a couple days before he had to pack to go home for the holidays. He had almost a month off between semesters and was spending two weeks at his parents over Christmas and New Years before returning home.

“How is your story going?” Tom asked one evening as he was over to help Harry pack his suitcase.

“Alright, I’m just stuck on this one part,” Harry shrugged.

“Oh?”

“The villain and hero haven’t declared their attraction towards each other yet, and the villain has his hero trapped,” Harry said slowly, “He’s like hanging from chains in front of his friends who are also trapped—I have this plan to say their ‘I love yous’ later, but I’m not sure how to move from here.”

“That is interesting,” Tom muttered, “Perhaps if you have a personal experience?” He smirked, chuckling softly as he moved closer to Harry, pressing his body against Harry’s. Harry moaned and automatically moved his head upwards so that he could meet Tom’s. They kissed, Tom’s hands holding his chest tightly as the Mafia Lord rolled his hips, pushing his growing erection against Harry’s butt. “Good boy,” Tom purred, “How would your villain touch his hero?”

“He would, play with his tits,” Harry moaned. “The hero has big muscle pecs.” Tom chuckled and slid his hands under Harry’s shirt, sliding up the twink’s body until he felt and groped at the developing pectorals.

“Like this, love?” Tom purred, “should I force you to work out more? Develop the hero’s body?”

“T-Tom,” Harry moaned.

“Songbird,” Tom said in a warning matter. “What comes next?”

“Daddy,” Harry breathed, gasping when Tom scrapped a nail against his nipples before tweaking them between his fingers. “Harder.” Tom chuckled darkly and he squeezed Harry’s nipples hard, pulling roughly as he heard the sweet sounds of his boy’s groans.

“Do you like this boy?” Tom breathed, “Being in my clutches, having your friends watch as I turn you into my willing slut?”

“D—Daddy,” Harry panted, “Please.” His cock was hardening in his pants. He pushed back against Tom’s erection. Tom chuckled.

“Please what, _hero_?” Tom chuckled. He pressed a nail against Harry’s skin and dragged it slowly down his body, teasing what was his as he stopped directly at the hem of pants. “Say it.”

“Own me,” Harry moaned. “Let me cum Daddy, please.”

“No, I don’t think I won’t,” Tom chuckled. Then, with surprising strength, he ripped Harry’s shirt, throwing the fabric off of Harry’s body and pushed him to his knees. “But I will let you suck me, _hero_.”

“Voldemort,” Harry panted Tom kept Harry’s hands above the boy’s head, holding them in one of his as he used the other to unbutton and free his cock. “Please,” he moaned.

“Go on hero, show your friends how much a pervert you are,” Tom laughed cruelly. Harry opened his mouth willingly and took Voldemort’s cock in his mouth.

“That’s a good slut,” Tom said cruelly, rocking his hips as he pushed his cock deep into Harry’s mouth, ignoring his gagging. “Finally where you are belong.” Harry gagged and sputtered around the cock, his eyes rolling backwards. Tom did not ease into treating him rough, instead he used his free hand to hold the back of Harry’s head and mercilessly rammed his cock into Harry’s mouth, listening to the boy’s protest and gags as it only turned him on more. He came too quickly for his liking, and his obedient Songbird swallowed everything. Tom slipped his cock out gently, and knelt down, kissing Harry and rubbing his throat, Harry’s arms finally falling.

“Did I serve as good inspiration, my Songbird?” Tom asked.

“Yeah,” Harry said, his voice sounding rough. Tom smirked at that and kissed him once more.

“Don’t worry Songbird, we’ll get rid of that pesky gag reflex one day,” Tom chuckled. “Then you can be my permanent cock warmer, you would love that wouldn’t you? Kneeling under my desk with my _full_ cock in your mouth to piss and cum when the mood fancies.” Harry moaned in agreement. His eyes still lust-filled. Tom loved that look. He held his lover to him gently, kissing his forehead. “Go write before inspiration fades,” he ordered. “I’ll be here sorting through your clothes.”

“Yes Daddy,” Harry said meekly. He slipped from Tom’s arms and made his way to the laptop, where he immediately resumed writing, his throat sore but a smile plastered on his face.

Tom meanwhile looked at the suitcase Harry had laying on his bed. It was empty, and so Tom moved around Harry’s room, opening any drawer he could reach to see what Harry owned. He slipped in a skirt or two with Harry’s jeans, and made sure that all the underwear were panties, pushing Harry’s boxers to the side. The shirts were mostly a nightmare. “Harry! Do you have anything that isn’t blue or gray?” Tom demanded as he looked through the drawers.

“I don’t know, if you ever saw me in any other color, I might have borrowed from Draco,” Harry shrugged.

Tom turned and in a few short steps, he placed his hands around Harry’s shoulder, giving a slight pressure. “It looks like,” he said, doing his best to hide his annoyance, “that I need to take my future wife shopping for more… colorful clothing. What about the dress I’ve gotten for you?”

“It’s in my closet, I’m a bit too scared to touch it after Draco and I cleaned it,” Harry admitted. “It looked too fancy.”

Tom sighed and shook his head. “You are lucky that I love you, Mr. Potter.”

“I know, and you’re lucky I love you, Mr. Riddle,” Harry fired back, grinning.

“Finish your scene,” Tom patted Harry’s shoulders and returned to packing. Harry smiled and hummed to himself as Tom finished packing for his Songbird. When both were done, Harry spun in his chair, grinning. “And why is making you look so victorious?” Tom asked.

“I have my Mafia Crime Boss Daddy whipped,” Harry said, sticking out a tongue. “You did all the packing for me!”

“So I did,” Tom chuckled, “but now you have to suffer some punishment for not doing it yourself, little boy.” He sat on Harry’s bed, his eyes sharp as he stared at Harry. Without any warnings, he grabbed Harry and positioned him over his lap, pulling down Harry’s pants until he saw Harry’s pale globous ass. Tom rubbed his hand against the skin, spreading the cheeks to have a peak at Harry’s small loose hole. “We’ve done a little progress,” he noted. “Pick a number, Songbird.”

“Huh?”

“A number!” Tom demanded, slamming his open hand against Harry’s ass. Harry yelped in pain and yelled the first number he thought of. “Fourteen!”

“Fourteen,” Tom nodded, “Fourteen added onto the forty I will give you. Better start counting, Songbird. I want you to sing each one.”

It was be obvious to say that it took most an hour for Tom to deliver out his punishment properly, the last part of the hour having him rubbing a soothing lotion over Harry’s red ass. For the next two days, Harry could not sit at all, his butt wincing and hurting everywhere as a permanent reminder: Never tell Voldemort that he is whipped.

Harry and Tom left for Harry’s parents a couple days later. It was December 20th, and Harry had a long drive ahead of them. Godric’s Hollow was a small town that was almost four hours by car from Hogwarts. It was an enjoyable four hours strangely enough. This was the first time that the two of them were in the car together where Harry actually saw what was around them, and they talked as music played, or Tom listened as Harry sang along to a Christmas carol or two.

Godric’s Hollow was an almost perfect picturesque town. Snow started falling as Tom and Harry drove in. It did not stick to the roads, thankfully, however the lawns of the houses they drove by were peppered by a thin layer of snow that only grew and grew as Harry gave directions. Tom slowed to a stop in front of a small two-story home that looked humble and modest. Its roof already had a layer of snow covering it, a fireplace sticking out as window facing them were all light up. A cobblestone path surrounded by grass led to the front door, the entire property surrounded why a white picket fence. “Your home is beautiful,” Tom said, getting out. He ran around to get Harry’s door before he could.

“I can get the door myself, Tom,” Harry smiled.

“It is ungentlemanly letting the wife get his own door,” Tom said, standing proud.

Harry rolled his eyes, “Slippery slope Tom,” he said, getting out. “Help me with the presents.”

The two pulled out bags filled with wrapped gifts, Harry glaring at Tom as he purposefully picked up the largest bag. The couple walked up the cobblestoned path and Harry pressed the doorbell.

The door opened almost immediately, and a beautiful woman with red hair and green eyes wearing jeans and a sweater opened the door. “HARRY!” she squealed and pulled Harry in for a hug.

“Hi Mum,” Harry said, “Happy Christmas.”

Mrs. Potter pulled Harry into the home, Tom following in amused. He placed his bag down, and looked around at the quaint front room, which had a closet and set of stairs that led up as well as a long kitchen to the right and a living room to the left. The whole house was decorated for Christmas.

An older man who looked to be an older version of Harry but with brown eyes walked up to them from the kitchen. “Harry, you’re here,” he smiled.

“Dad!” Harry smiled, turning to hug him. “Mum, Dad, this is my boyfriend, Tom Riddle.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you both,” Tom said, shaking Mr. and Mrs. Potter’s hands.

“Pleasure’s all ours, Tom,” Mr. Potter said. “Come on, why don’t you boys put your presents under the tree, and then we can have some dinner.” It was easy for Tom to win Harry’s parents over. They asked him many questions about what he did, how they met, and more importantly their age difference. “So you’re turning thirty?” Mrs. Potter asked over dinner.

“At the end of the month, yes,” Tom nodded. “I know that there’s a nine year difference between Harry and I, but it has never been an issue for us, isn’t that right Songbird?”

“Right,” Harry nodded, smiling. “Tom’s always been a gentlemen with me Mum.”

“Nine years,” Mrs. Potter frowned. “I just don’t know. Though that might be because James and I are the same age. Oh well.”

“You call our son, Songbird?” Mr. Potter asked.

“Yes, it’s because when I first met Harry, he was singing,” Tom said, smiling with pride. “Do you remember Harry?”

“We were in the gym,” Harry nodded, smiling at the lewd memory.

“When’s the last time you sang for us, Harry?” Mrs. Potter asked. “It must be forever.”

“I sing for you guys… I think,” Harry blushed. “You saw me at Marauders, singing!”

“Yes, but that’s different,” Mrs. Potter said.

Harry shrugged. He looked between his parents and Tom. “I’ll sing for you on Christmas, then, I guess,” he said. “I’ll just sing what I sang for Marauders.”

“Great,” Mrs. Potter smiled.

“That would be nice,” Mr. Potter said. “Would be better if it would be the four of us,” he muttered.

“James!”

Tom raised an eyebrow, and looked at Harry who mouthed ‘later.’ Whatever it was, Tom did not ask about it until he and Harry were in Harry’s old room, which had a large bed, a dresser, an empty desk and that was it. “Not very decorative, are you my love?” Tom asked. Harry blushed.

“Everything is at my home, my apartment,” he said. “This is just to sleep when I visit. It works.” He opened his closet and placed their suitcases onto his bed. “You brought my dresses?” he asked.

“Of course,” Tom smirked. “I want my pretty Songbird is pretty dresses. Unless your parents doesn’t know—”

“No,” Harry blushed, “No, they uh… they know about my job but umm I didn’t tell them that I like wearing dresses yet.”

“Then what else but to show them? I think this one,” Tom said, holding Harry’s black dress with a low cleavage, “will be beautiful.”

“No,” Harry said strongly. “I will not wear _that_ in front of my mother!” He took the dress from Tom and placed it on the hanger, putting it in his closet. He looked into his suitcase, and looked around, picking up a short skirt. “This and a sweater or a shirt, I’ll wear,” he said. “Or…” he pulled out a simple decent green dress with no fancy cuts, and two straps around the shoulders. “this. But not that black dress,” he repeated. Tom smirked.

“Understand, Songbird,” Tom said. “Now, who else will we have during this break?”

“My Aunt and Uncle will come visit as always for a bit on Christmas Day, along with my cousin,” Harry sighed. “To be honest, I don’t like any of them. They are disgusting.”

“I see,” Tom said. “Are they a problem?” he asked.

“I mean they’re annoying—” Harry gasped. “No!” He said, “No—no, Tom!”

“What? If they provide to be a problem to our marriage—”

“NO! Are you insane?” Harry yelled. “They’re my family! I hate them but still they’re my family! We’ll just not invite them! Not kill them!” He sighed and leaned against his bed, crossing his arms. “Besides,” he shrugged, “Shouldn’t you be saving your power for keeping Hogwarts running?”

“You’re right,” Tom chuckled, “but I also have an unlimited power to satisfy you.” He pulled Harry in for a kiss, grabbing his hair. “My sweet Songbird,” he smiled. Harry melted in the kiss, pressing his body against Tom’s, both men falling onto the bed. They kissed heavily until Tom pushed Harry off. “Put the rest of the clothes away!” He ordered, taking off his pants and slowly stroked his hard cock. “If you’re good, you’ll get to ride me.”

“Yes Daddy,” Harry grinned. He began to work, taking his clothes off until he was just wearing his underwear. He worked in record time, emptying both suitcases and taking them off the beds and into the closets before climbing back into bed, moving his underwear just so his hole was free, and sat down on Tom’s lap, his hard thick cock sheathing into his boy pussy.

The days leading up to Christmas were spent in a perfect bliss. Harry and Tom spent their time walking around the town or spending time with Harry’s parents. Tom had to admit to himself, he enjoyed Godric’s Hollow. It was relaxing spending time in a small town instead of the bustling city of Hogwarts. There were no stress from traffic or worrying about the city’s businesses both under and above ground. Before he knew it, it was Christmas Eve.

They were walking around the town square, just Harry and him. It was a beautiful square with a fountain lit up in the middle, surrounded by trees and a park to the side. They were walking the trail through the park towards the fountain, watching the snow fall gently down. “This is so peaceful,” Harry sighed. “Sometimes I forget why I leave, but I do love Hogwarts as well.”

“I can see why, this place is beautiful,” Tom nodded, “almost as beautiful as you.”

“Tom,” Harry smiled.

“Which reminds me,” Tom said, “Come here.” He pulled Harry towards the fountain, setting his boy down on the fountain’s edge. “I believe I told you that I’m going to give you a special gift during Christmas,” Tom said, getting to one knee. “My sweet Songbird,” Tom began, taking out a small black box. “My sweet little Harry, won’t you accept this ring, and properly say ‘yes’ to marrying me?” He opened the ring, revealing a silver ring with a sparkling diamond.

“Tom,” Harry said softly, “I—yes of course!” He held out his hand and Tom slipped the ring on as the few bystanders watching them clapped as they realized what just happened. Tom spun Harry in the air, their lips meeting once more. “Come on!” Harry grinned, “We have to show my parents this!”

“That will be an experience,” Tom chuckled. “Not only have we just met, but now I’m marrying in!”

“They love you! Come on!” Harry grinned.

“No,” Tom said, “I don’t have your parents’ permission yet. For now, we can call this our little secret,” he chuckled. “But don’t worry, I’ll ask for your parents’ permission after Christmas.”

“Then, what about the ring?” Harry asked, looking down at it, admiring its beauty. Tom held Harry’s hands in his.

“Wear it with pride, my Songbird,” Tom purred. “Wear it, and let the world know just by showing. However, we do not tell your parents until after Christmas.”

“Okay,” Harry nodded. He smiled at the ring and looked up at Tom, “Can I still show my parents? The ring.”

“You’re expected to, Songbird,” Tom smirked, “or else you’ll get quite a lashing.” His hands went to Harry’s ass, squeezing it hard, not caring about their little audience. He has plans of fucking his Songbird during meetings, why should he care about a few strangers? Harry gasped and laughed, taking Tom’s hand and tugging him away.

“Come on then!” He smiled, “I want to show my parents your gift.” He pulled Tom along away from the town square, back to home where he burst through the door. His parents jumped from the living room, shocked.

“Harry! Jesus don’t scare us like that!” Mrs. Potter said.

“How was your walk boys?”

“It was good—and look! Tom gave me his gift early,” Harry smiled. He ran up to his parents and held out his hand, showing off the ring.

Mr. Potter stared at it for a moment before looking up to Tom, his eyes darkening. “You didn’t—”

“Dad, it’s just a ring, relax,” Harry smiled.

“It’s true that Harry and I did talk about marriage every now and again, however we both agree, and know, that I wouldn’t dare do anything until I asked you two,” Tom said. “Besides, it is much too soon.”

“You’re right it is,” Mr. Potter said, relaxing. “You’ve only been dating for a few months!”

“Yeah but it was an eventful full months!” Harry said, “Besides Dad, Tom takes good care of me. In fact—” He looked over at Tom, blushing, “can you uhh go wait in our room? I have some things I want to tell them.”

“Of course,” Tom chuckled. He walked up the stairs, reaching the top where he waited, leaning against the banister as he listened in.

“What do you want to tell us?” Mr. Potter asked.

“Just how great he is—I mean yeah we argue sometimes but, he helped me through with a lot of things,” Harry voice said, filling Tom’s heart with pride and love. “Like with Parkinson. …”

“Parkinson?” Mrs. Potter questioned before gasping. “Don’t tell me she—”

“Won’t be bothering me anymore,” Harry said. “Tom helped me through it. I’m, I think I’m finally getting over what she did to me. I showed him my scars, he listened and coddled me and we talked through it and like, it’s like a huge burden has been lifted. Along with that, he just brought out so many stuff even about me that I never knew about. Like, you know how I wear dresses and stuff for work right? The once a month thing. Well, talking with Tom about it, I—” Harry took a deep breath, “I actually like wearing them. The dresses and skirts.”

There was a painful silence. And Tom gripped the banister, his knuckles going white as he waited for the reply, his body ready to jump down and snatch Harry away if he needed to.

It was Mrs. Potter who broke the silence, “We knew about that,” she said gently. “We just didn’t know how to bring it up.”

“Oh,” was Harry’s embarrassed response. “Anyway... it’s just that after so much, I think—no, I know that Tom’s the one for me. We just fit so perfectly.”

“Harry,” Mr. Potter sighed, “are you sure you two just aren’t still in the honeymoon part of your relationship?”

“I’m sure,” Harry nodded. “I want to marry Tom. I don’t care that we’ve been dating for only a few months. It just feels right, I know that it is right.”

“Does he know?” Mr. Potter asked.

“About me wanting to marry him? Yes,” Harry nodded. “In fact, he was the one who first suggested it.” Tom could practically hear his Songbird’s blush in his words. “We talked about marriage in general and, he mentioned that we just feel so right that it wouldn’t be surprising if we both wanted to be married by the end of next year.” And he’s such an easy liar! Tom’s heart soared; he knew he picked the right boy to be his wife.

“Can we talk about this later?” Mr. Potter asked. “Riddle seems like a nice man but, I don’t know about marriage yet.”

“Yes, same,” Mrs. Potter said. “He’s a clever boy but—we need to talk about this.”

“Oh, okay,” Harry said, he sounded a little defeatist.

“We’re not angry at you or him,” Mrs. Potter said in a loving tone, “it’s just that all of this is quite sudden. We’ll talk about this after Christmas, when it’s just the four of us, okay?”

“Okay,” Harry nodded. “Um is it alright if I wear a dress tomorrow?”

“And give Vernon a heart attack? Please do,” Mr. Potter chuckled.

“James!” Mrs. Potter gasped. “Yes, you can Harry, we don’t tell you how to dress but just be ready for whatever happens.”

“And thank God it’ll only be an hour,” Mr. Potter said.

“James!”

“I’m going to go check on Tom,” Harry said. Tom heard him stand up and waited, watching as his Songbird appeared on the stairs and walked up. Their eyes met and Harry smiled with mirth. “Does Lord Voldemort know that eavesdropping is rude?” Harry whispered.

Tom chuckled. “And what are you going to do about it?” he asked as Harry circled around to hug him.

“This,” Harry said, kissing Tom.

“You know that only encourages me to do more eavesdropping,” Tom chuckled. “Anyway, come along, I’m getting tired, and we have an interesting hour to prepare for. Along with a beautiful dress for my wife to wear.” He swooped Harry off his feet and carried him off into their bedroom, dropping Harry onto their bed unceremoniously.

“And to do that,” Tom purred, “I think a night’s worth of fucking you is needed.”


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Christmas came with morning sex, because of course it did. Tom refused to let Harry leave their room until he was sure that his hole was filled to the brim with his seed, and even then Tom spent almost ten minutes lapping at Harry’s abused hole, the boy moaning against the gag that was in his mouth that made sure that his parents didn’t hear.

They were dressed in their pajamas, Harry begging Tom to put on a shirt, just so they can pretend to be decent. His parents were already downstairs, dressed in holiday pajamas of red and white, their arms and legs looking like giant candy canes. “Morning boys,” Mrs. Potter smiled, “Tom, would you like some tea or coffee?”

“Coffee please, black,” Tom said, escorting his love to the free loveseat. Harry looked at the Christmas tree, which dazzled with lights and tinsel, and his eyes roamed down the pile of presents. There was more than he excepted, and glanced at Tom, who simply sat slightly smug. “Why are there so many presents?” Harry asked.

Tom just chuckled. “Santa, of course,” he said. Harry stared at him for a long moment, his jaw dropped. “It would be rude of me to come here with only gifts for you,” Tom said, his hand moving to play with Harry’s hair, “So I brought some gifts for your parents as well.”

“Tom!”

“You didn’t really have to do that, son,” Mr. Potter said.

Tom shrugged, “I felt like it, there is no need to say no, and please don’t feel forced to accept the gifts. I’ve brought them solely based on what your son told me about you.”

“Well, the thought is greatly appreciated,” Mrs. Potter’s voice called out from the kitchen. “Harry! Be a dear and help me bring the mugs in?” Harry stood up and went to the kitchen, taking two cups, one of which was dark coffee, and went back to the room, handing Tom his drink. Mrs. Potter followed, turning the radio on as she did. Classical Christmas music softly filled the room as Mrs. Potter sat down next to her wife. “So, since Tom’s the guest, you can have the first go,” she smiled. “I’m sorry that we didn’t really have time to pick out gifts for you—”

“Not to worry,” Tom smiled. “Just meeting the parents of my boyfriend is a gift enough.” Harry blushed at that. “Besides,” he added, “I noticed Harry sneaking in gifts for me from his friends.”

“Tom!” Harry gasped for the second time today. The older man laughed and kissed Harry’s cheek.

“I’m sorry Songbird, but you are not exactly gifted at being subtle,” Tom chuckled. “As for presents…” he stood up briefly to grab two presents, both of which were from him and to Harry’s parents. “I would like to start with you two opening mine. See if I got it right.”

“Tom, this is very thoughtful of you,” Mrs. Potter smiled. The two unwrapped their presents at the same time. Tom giving a victoriously smug smile at Harry as his parents fawned over their gifts. Mrs. Potter gotten an old record of her favorite singer while Mr. Potter gotten frame picture of his favorite soccer team, along with a couple tickets. “I’ve asked Harry and made sure that the tickets were on your usual vacation time,” Tom said. “However if you have plans, you are free to return them, the receipts are at the bottom. There is a ticket for the three of you.”

“Tom, this is brilliant!” Mr. Potter said. He gasped and showed the tickets to his wife, “Look at these seats! They’re brilliant!”

“Oh my, Kingsley will be very jealous,” Mrs. Potter said.

“And I’m going to love every second of it,” Mr. Potter smirked. He placed the tickets back carefully with the framed picture and put them both to the side.

“And finally,” Tom said, “Harry, my love, your other gift.” He pulled another present out of nowhere and placed it on Harry’s lap.

“Tom I swear if this is expensive, I will hate you forever,” Harry said speechless. Tom smirked and shook his head.

“We both know that is impossible,” he said. “Just open it, love.”

Harry did and let out a high gasp. Tom has given him a picture. It was a picture of the two of them, with Harry in a dress and him in a suit. They were dancing, and the picture took Harry mid twirl. “How—”

“That dance club is full of the most narcissistic egotists imaginable,” Tom said easily, “it has a full staff just to take pictures of them dancing. I hired him just to take one picture, and that was it.” Harry stared at the picture for a moment before giving it to his mother so he could hug Tom properly. Tom hugged him back, giving Harry a chase kiss.

The gifts opened smoothly afterwards. Harry surprised Tom by giving him two gifts, one of them being a simple penknife that could be pocketed discretely for nobody to know, his gift for Voldemort, and the second was a CD that caused Harry to blush deeply. “You know the girls from the drag club,” he said, “I asked them for a favor, and we made that. It’s me… singing.”

Tom smiled widely. “I’ll listen to this every time I don’t have you to sing for me,” he said. Harry blushed and leaned into Tom, feeling comfortable and at peace.

The Dursleys were schedule to arrive for Christmas lunch around three. Once all the presents were opened, Harry cleaned the room before going up with Tom to figure out what exactly they were going to wear. “I don’t know,” he sighed, looking at his dresses. “I just—I’m a little scared.”

“Harry,” Tom said. He took Harry’s hand and pulled him to the bed. “You’re going to become a Crime Lord’s wife. You faced torture and lived stronger because of it, getting your revenge in the process. You lived through Parkinson, and you will live through this. If you really cannot decide, then tell me. Daddy will take all of your fears and worry away.”

“Daddy, please choose for me,” Harry said. Tom smirked and nodded. He pulled out a blindfold from his suitcase and took Harry’s glasses off.

“Daddy is going to dress his Songbird,” he whispered. “Move with my body.” He slowly shed Harry of his clothes until the boy was naked. His cock started to harden as Tom slipped panties on him and pinched his nipples. “Don’t move,” he warned and stepped away from the bed. Harry obeyed, smiling at the darkness. He heard Tom moving about his closet for a long moment before he came back and manhandled Harry to a sitting position. Fabric slipped around him, his arms and legs being maneuvered by Tom. He felt he was dressed, but Tom kept the blindfold on as he helped Harry off the bed, holding him closely as they walked. “There’s a chair Songbird, right next to you,” Tom said. “Sit down for Daddy.”

“Yes Daddy,” Harry giggled, reaching out and feeling the chair. He sat down.

“Keep your eyes closed,” Tom commanded. “I’m taking the blindfold off only to add a bit of make up to you. Understand, boy?”

“Yes, Daddy,” Harry nodded. He kept his eyes closed as he felt the black fabric slip off of his eyes. Tom placed it to the side and soon Harry felt lipstick pressed against his lips. Blush and eyeshadow soon followed.

“Done,” Tom said. “Keep your eyes closed, boy. I’m bringing you to the mirror now.”

“Yes Daddy,” Harry said for a third time.

Tom escorted him from the chair to the mirror. “Open,” he commanded.

Harry opened his eyes and smiled. His lips were pink and had a light blush and eyeshadow. He was wearing a flowing light red dress that reached down past his ankles. He spun around and the fabric spun with him. “Daddy likes when his boy is having fun,” Tom chuckled, watching as Harry admired himself.

“What do you think? Do I make a good Mafia wife?” Harry asked, spinning, and winking at Tom.

“I would rather see my wife all tied up with the largest, thickest dildo shoved up his loose, wet, needy pussy,” Tom purred, “but this is also a good look, my Songbird.” He kissed Harry deeply, his hand going under Harry’s dress, making the fabric ride up Harry’s legs until he felt up the panties Harry were wearing. “Come on,” he winked.

Harry led the way downstairs and into the kitchen where his parents were cooking. “Mom, Dad,” he said. The two turned to look at Harry.

“Oh my,” Mrs. Potter gasped.

“I’ll be damned,” Mr. Potter said. “Harry, is that you?”

“Yeah,” Harry blushed. “I like wearing dresses and, well—”

“You look great son,” Mr. Potter grinned. “Oh I can’t wait until Vernon gets a look at this!” He laughed. “He’ll be dead in minutes!”

“James!” Mrs. Potter yelled. She looked at Harry, her glare softening. “You look lovely Harry,” she said. “Those colors really compliment you.”

“Thank you mom,” Harry smiled.

“Well, can you help us set the table? They’ll be here soon. And Tom, help Harry,” Mrs. Potter ordered.

The four worked together getting the late lunch ready, ham and mashed potatoes, carrots and green beans and a nice helping of gravy along with salads. The table was just set when there was a knock on the door.

“I hope you’re ready,” Mr. Potter sighed, patting Tom’s back. “This hour’s always been murder.”

Tom chuckled, “Funny enough I’m familiar with that feeling,” he said.

“Oh?”

“Try listening to rich old men in a meeting,” Tom said, “It’s as if they’re trying to build their coffins with money.” Mr. Potter laughed just as Mrs. Potter opened the door.

“Petunia! You look so wonderful,” Mrs. Potter’s voice said, “Dudley, you’re looking rather handsome. Hello Vernon.”

“Yes, hello,” a man’s voice rumbled through. Mrs. Potter moved to the side for a humanized version of a walrus to walk in, along with a big walrus mustache. He was rather purple at the face and had no neck, Tom already surmised that they best way to knock him out was a simple slap. Behind him was a tall lean woman was a horse like face and twice the neck as a normal person’s. The third seemed to be the most normal looking of the three, a young man around Harry’s age who clearly was once fat which turned into thick muscles. The three walked towards the kitchen and stopped when they saw Harry and Tom.

“Vernon, Petunia, you remember Harry,” Mrs. Potter said proudly, “he asked and brought along his boyfriend with him. His name is Tom Riddle.”

“A pleasure to meet you three,” Tom said, however he noticed that their eyes were on Harry and his dress. Aunt Petunia looked absolutely scandalized while Uncle Vernon’s neck and face turned into several shades of purple.

“What sort of trick is this?” He demanded. “I thought we were going to have a normal lunch!”

“We are,” Harry said, “I just felt like wearing something a bit more airy,” he spun around to emphasize, “I think I look good in it.”

Tom noticed that the young man continued to stare at Harry speechless, a tint in his cheeks. “Uhh Mom, Dad, is it alright if Harry and I talk for a bit before we eat?” he asked.

Aunt Petunia nodded quickly, while Uncle Vernon just sputtered. “Harry, please, and umm you can come too, Riddle,” the cousin said.

“Sure, Dudley,” Harry said, and he led Tom to follow Dudley upstairs. The three went into Harry’s room. “What’s the matter—”

“I’m dating a girl—well, you know her but it’s complicated,” Dudley said, “I don’t know why I’m even telling you, its’ the dress and—you remember Piers?” he stopped.

“Yes,” Harry nodded.

“She goes by Phoebe now,” Dudley said. “And umm well, we’re sort of dating, but I don’t know how to tell my folks.”

“Ohh, well um tell her congratulations first,” Harry blinked, sounding a little awkward. “And also I don’t know really.”

“Because you see how my folks reacted to you wearing a dress, and umm Phoebe’s kind of unique, I guess,” Dudley said. “I love her, don’t get me wrong, I love her and her body, I _really_ love her body, she got the biggest tits—ahem, sorry. Anyway, she’s one hundred percent woman, one hundred percent my woman, but I’m scared that Dad won’t see it that way because she still has her, you know, dick.” Dudley flushed. “She doesn’t want bottom surgery, and I’m scared Dad will dead name her because, you know, she still has a dick.”

“Just because she has a penis doesn’t make her a man,” Tom said, “There’s a different feeling between a male penis and the female penis, a way different mouth feel.” The two stared at Tom for a moment, and he smirked, “Songbird, did you believe I was a virgin when I took you?” he laughed.

“No, it’s just was unexpected,” Harry blushed. “But yeah, Phoebe’s a girl, end of story. If your dad and mom can’t see that, then it’s their problem. And, if you need somebody to talk to, well, you have my number—and you know my mom and dad likes you!”

“I guess,” Dudley said, blushing a little. “Harry, are you umm—I mean do you feel—”

“I’m male,” Harry said. “I just like having my girly moments,” he chuckled as he swayed in the dress, “and I look damn sexy in dresses.”

“Agreed,” Tom said. “But you have nothing to fear, young Dursley, if your father really needs correcting, I happen to know a few people who are more than glad to… educate him.” He chuckled darkly, earning a confused look from Dudley and a glare from Harry.

“Don’t you dare,” Harry whispered. “Anyway, was that it Dudley?”

“Yeah—and thanks, the both of you,” Dudley smiled. “I can’t wait to tell Phoebe!” He left, grinning. Harry turned to grab Tom’s hand while the older man leered at him with a perverted grin.

“What are you thinking about?” Harry asked.

“I’m imaging what you would look like if I’ve gotten you padded bras,” Tom smirked. “We can ask your friends down in the drag club for help.”

“No!” Harry laughed, “I mean maybe, but no! Can we please get through lunch without being sexual?” Tom laughed and hooked Harry to his side, escorting his beautiful wife-to-be downstairs for lunch.

Dudley seemed to be in a happier mood as he sat down next to his father, although it lessened when Vernon glanced at him. The fat man looked up at Tom, his mood changed completely. “Thomas! You see uh here, Harry’s parents were just telling me that you are in business, too.”

“I am,” Tom said.

“Well,” Uncle Vernon chuckled. “I happen to be the director of Grunnings, you see,” he said, swelling pride. “We’re a drill making company, and we have nine floors. Nine! With my office being at the top of course.” His chest swelled.

“Quaint,” Tom said.

“Yes well, it takes a long time to build up a reputation such as myself,” Uncle Vernon said, “I’ve been working at Grunnings for years! Since 1978 if you would believe it!”

“That is a long time to gain such a reputation,” Tom said, smiling politely. “I, on the other hand, am a humble CEO of Riddle Incorporate. One of the fastest upstart businesses in Hogwarts. I deal with trading, along with manufacturing, and I believe my office is on the… seventy-fifth floor, at least I believe that is how many floors my building have.”

“Yes… well,” Uncle Vernon grumbled, he cleared his throat. “You must look very good for your age. And you are uhh what again?”

“I’m turning thirty in a few days, it’s actually really stressful thinking about it,” Tom smirked. Mr. Potter had to hold his hand to his mouth to hide his sudden snicker. He cleared his throat when people looked at him.

“Sorry,” he said, “drink must have went down the wrong pipe.”

“Anyway,” Tom continued, “It’s not that big of a thing really, I’m actually more impressed by Harry and his book.”

“Tom! I’m not even done with the first draft,” Harry muttered.

“Yes, but still I know that it will sell well,” Tom shrugged.

“And that all better, on it’s own,” Harry stressed, causing Tom to roll his eyes.

Uncle Vernon’s face reminded Harry of a deep purple beach ball sticking on his body with little to no neck. “Tell them what you’re up to Dudley!” he barked out.

Dudley flinched. “Uhh well, I have a girlfriend,” he said, looking at Harry, who gave him an encouraging nod.

“You do? That’s wonderful,” Mrs. Potter smiled. “How is she?”

“She’s nice, been dating her for a few months… I haven’t umm brought her to meet my folks yet—but they know about her, right mom?” Dudley said, looking at his mother.

“Phoebe,” Aunt Petunia nodded.

“Yes, well what about your studies and stuff,” Vernon stressed. “Boy’s going into business! Like me!”

“Oh right,” Dudley muttered. “I’m doing fine in school, I guess,” he shrugged. “But uh I’m actually want to go into construction—”

“Nonsense,” Vernon said. “You’re going into business.”

Harry felt suddenly awkward. He looked at his parents and Tom for help. They all held the same awkward look as Harry, and Mrs. Potter said rather loudly, “Well I’m sure your Phoebe will encourage you in whatever you do.”

“Yes! She’s very encouraging,” Dudley said, perking up.

“Then she should encourage the boy to do business,” Uncle Vernon said. “You know what I’m talking about, eh Thomas? Business is a good line of work. Steady money—”

“However if he has no joy in it, then it will be an endless, grueling grind,” Tom interrupted. “And please, if you do not mind, I detest the name Thomas.”

“Yes, fine,” Uncle Vernon muttered. He shot a glare at Harry and ate a few bites from his plate. The silence in the room was deafening, and Harry found himself grabbing onto Tom’s hand as he smoothed out his dress.

“Funny thing, people today,” Aunt Petunia said, glancing at Harry. “Men wearing dresses.”

“I actually like the trend,” Mr. Potter said, “We know that Harry can pull it off.”

“It’s unseemly,” Petunia said. “We already have people… confused about their gender and that nonsense. We don’t need to add boys thinking they’re girls into the bunch.”

Dudley’s hand slammed onto the table, making them jump. He looked visibly angry and stood up. “I’m going to drive home,” he muttered. “Thank you for the food, Aunt Lily, Uncle James.” He walked out without another word.

“He seemed a bit jumpy,” Uncle Vernon said.

“I think you should go too,” Mrs. Potter said politely, “I’ve completely forgot that James and I were going to visit friends soon.” She stood up and got Aunt Petunia her coat. “It was lovely seeing you again,” she said with a forced smile. Uncle Vernon still had gravy dripping from his mustache as he left, sputtering in an angry confusion.

“So sorry about that Tom,” she said.

“No worries, if I was not a guest, I would have done the same thing,” Tom said, smiling. “Still, I do hope that your cousin is alright.”

“He will be, I’m sure,” Harry nodded.

“Wonder why he got so angry,” Mr. Potter muttered. Harry looked at Tom for a moment before telling his parents about Phoebe.

“Oh god,” Mr. Potter muttered, “Bless those two. Vernon is going to have three heart attacks when he finds out.”

“However I am very proud that you told Dudley to contact you any time,” Mrs. Potter smiled. “And I always thought Phoebe was a lovely girl. I’m using it right, right?”

“More importantly, we can finally relax,” Mr. Potter said, falling onto the couch with a groan. He chuckled and smiled at Tom, “Did you see his face when you told him your age? Jesus I thought he would collapse out of his chair. That man never shuts up about his drills.”

Tom chuckled just as his phone rang. His smile quickly became a frown as he pulled out his phone. “Work,” he said. “I’m sorry.” He did not even hide his annoyance as he stood and walked outside.

Harry sprung up, “I’m going to check on him,” he said immediately, “and give him a scarf…”

It was freezing outside, snow still falling from late last night. Tom was cursing into his phone. “I told you to not fucking call me while I am at my bride’s home!” he snarled. “What in that disgusting head of yours could rattled that is so _fucking_ important that you dared to call me now you shit for brains!”

Harry touched Tom’s shoulder. The man turned angrily, glaring at Harry for only a second before recognizing it. He immediately looked apologetic as Harry held out a scarf. “Wrap it around me,” Tom ordered. “No not you, you future corpse! My wife! … Yes of course he’s here, I am at his parents house! And he is more useful than your incompetent ass!”

Harry wrapped the scarf around Tom’s neck and hugged him tightly to share body heat. Tom was silent for a moment. Harry tried to listen in but heard nothing. Tom’s expression softened, as he smiled, “Bellatrix, finally, someone with a brain. Tell me how did that dolt get this number?”

Bellatrix Lestrange’s loud voice came clearly through the phone. “I had him call you because I have some very important news. We already apprehended one of Grindelwald’s scouts.” _Grindelwald?_ Harry frowned. _Who is that?_

“Excellent news, I want him interrogated immediately. Do we have a new torturer to do that?” Tom asked.

“Yes sir, one of the best hitman like you approved. He started yesterday,” Bellatrix answered.

“Good, then have him do his job,” Tom said. “One more thing, kill him.”

“Who?”

“The idiot who called my phone,” Tom said simply. “I’ve no room for incompetence with Grindelwald on his way.”

“Understood sir,” Bellatrix said. Before she hung up, Harry could hear a man pleading for his life. For some reason, it didn’t phase him at all. Instead, he looked up at his Voldemort, “Who is Grindelwald? Are you going to be okay?” he asked worryingly.

“I will be fine, my Songbird,” Tom said soothingly. “Grindelwald is a man like me, but crueler, with no love or taste. He believes that he can come in and take over Hogwarts, but I will not let him. And now, I will personally make sure that his death is long and arduous for making you worry.”

Harry just hummed and hugged Tom closer, “As long as you stay safe,” he whispered.

Tom chuckled, and petted Harry’s hair. “My sweet Songbird,” he said, “how quickly you’ve became accustomed to my life.”

“It’s inevitable,” Harry said, looking up sweetly, “I’m your wife, aren’t I?”

Tom laughed, “You are indeed, Harry. Come back inside, I would hate for my wife to catch a cold.” They walked back inside, holding onto themselves and letting the door close slowly behind them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ll be honest: Phoebe is totally just in salty retaliation of how Joanne has been acting on Twitter. In other words: Voldemort says, “Fuck yeah, Trans Rights!”


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Tom insisted that he has a quiet birthday. He and Harry were still at Harry’s parents, and every time Harry brought up Tom’s birthday, he insisted that he just wanted a small dinner. Which Harry provided, kicking his parents out of the kitchen as Harry insisted that he cooked the birthday dinner for his Tom. He remembered the Italian dish Tom made for him the time they confessed their secrets, and he wanted to recreate it.

It took most of the afternoon, and he was sweaty, but he smiled at his accomplishment as he laid the table lovingly. “Harry, this looks amazing!” Mrs. Potter said. “What is it?”

“Shrimp scampi,” Harry smiled, glancing up at Tom, who raised an amused eyebrow. He took his chair and watched Harry carefully for a moment before taking a small bite.

“Songbird, when did you steal my recipe?” Tom asked, amused.

Harry just gave a sly smile, “Did I get it right?” he asked.

“Perfectly.”

“Then I’m not telling,” Harry said, sticking out his tongue before taking a bite himself. He saw his parents watching him and smiled, “This is the first meal Tom cooked for me,” he said. “It was actually the day I told him about, you know, her.”

His parents nodded in understanding. “The food calmed Harry down,” Tom said, remembering. “I’ve assumed that he was too nervous to eat that morning, so I made sure to fill his stomach, so he didn’t starve.”

Harry blushed a little, looking down at his food. “It was an eventful day,” he muttered. “Actually, that was the day that I knew,” he looked up at his parents, “I knew that I wanted to be with Tom forever.”

“Ohh,” Mrs. Potter said. “Well… it’s still a little weird,” she said. “Both of you have only been dating for a few months.”

“But you only dated for a year before you guys married,” Harry said. “I’m not arguing, I’m just pointing out.”

His parents blinked, looking at each other for an embarrassed moment. “Yes well—that’s different,” Mr. Potter said.

“Harry, don’t argue,” Tom said in a slightly commanding tone. “Romance takes different paces for everyone. That is something my father-figure taught me.”

Harry pouted and stuffed a full fork full into his mouth. “This is the first time you mentioned a parent figure,” Mr. Potter mentioned casually. “We didn’t know if we could ask—”

“No need to worry, I’m an open book,” Tom smiled easily, Harry resisting the urge to snort. “I’m an orphan. Grew up in an orphanage when a man found me. There was a man who found me there. Raised me up to be the man I am today.”

“Well, he did a wonderful job,” Mr. Potter smiled. “And, if you two are serious, than I think you’ll be a fine addition to the family… _years_ from now. Right Lily?”

“Of course,” Mrs. Potter nodded. She smiled at Harry, “and don’t listen to your father, just go at your own pace, okay?”

“Just make sure to keep the Potter name,” Mr. Potter said, giving them a big awkward smile. Tom and Harry glanced at each other and his smile faltered. “You uhh are keeping your name, right Harry?”

“Honestly, we never really talked about that,” Harry blushed. He looked at Tom, “I don’t know what your feels are on that front.”

“If you want to have my name, go for it,” Tom shrugged, “but we should talk more about this in _private_.”

“Oh! Uh right, sorry there sons,” Mr. Potter cleared his throat. “This food is excellent Harry, well done.” He shoveled large amount of food just so his mouth could have something to do besides digging a hole for himself.

Mrs. Potter shook her head, “Never mind him,” she said. Dinner went smoothly afterwards, Harry finishing it with a delicious chocolate and vanilla cake for dessert.

The rest of their visit sped away too quickly for Harry’s liking. He wanted it to last forever, however he also wanted to go back to Hogwarts, to be in his own room and in Tom’s home, laying on their bed in the playroom. He mentioned this to Tom as they drove home, causing the older man to smirk and, a few hours later, Harry found himself kneeling wearing only his panties in their playroom in Tom’s home.

Tom was pacing in front of him, looking down every now and again. “My beautiful wife,” he smiled. “I think it’s time we have a long talk.”

“About what?” Harry asked, looking up but staying knelt.

“Kink,” Tom said shortly. “I feel we are long overdue an honest discussion about it.” Harry nodded softly. “Good, now before we begin, I want you to remind me of everything my naughty Songbird did he before he became mine.” Tom smirked.

Harry blushed as he thought back. It was strange, thinking back then. It was as though it was another life long ago. “Sex, lots of sex. Some bareback, most had rubbers. I never drank piss until it was yours, I uhh, I was fisted, had my hole opened up so much it hurt and felt so good. One time… one time I had two dicks inside me. They were twins.”

Tom gave out a deep chuckle, “Who knew you were such a whore, Potter,” he said, sounding both jealous and very possessive. “I see that Daddy has a lot to discipline you for.”

Harry blushed, looking down in shame for a moment before looking back up with a dangerous grin, “But I wasn’t yours during those times, Daddy,” he said.

“Silly boy… you were always mine,” Tom said, “you just did not know it yet.” He paused for a moment, “So I will assume that you will allow all that you have mentioned. Piss, double penetration, and fisting?”

“Yes but—Daddy how will you do double—”

“We have toys, you innocent boy,” Tom chuckled. “There is no way I will allow another cock ever enter you.” Harry blushed at that, smiling, “I’m alright with that,” he nodded.

“Good boy,” Tom said. He moved to the nearby dresser and picked up a piece of paper from it. “This,” he said, walking back to Harry. “Is a list of kinks that I absolutely will not do. So much so that I will not even utter their names.” He handed it to Harry.

Harry’s eyes grew as wide as saucers as he read the short list. He stared up at Tom, his mouth hung open for a moment. “Do people—do they really do that?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” Tom sneered. “I take it from your reaction that you loathe them as much as I do?”

“Yes! Yes!” Harry said, practically throwing the paper away. Tom picked it up and ripped the paper in half twice, throwing the pieces away in a small bin. Tom smirked at Harry’s reaction and leaned against the bed.

“Then we can talk about the kinks that we will participate in here, won’t we Songbird?” he said.

“Yes, Daddy,” Harry nodded.

“Just so you know, you have full authority on which kinks we do and do not try,” Tom said, “I am your Master, Songbird, but it is not fun if only I am getting pleasure, isn’t that right?”

“It is,” Harry blushed. His knees started to ache, and he shuffled to get the blood moving, but still kept in the kneeling position. “Do we have a pillow?” he asked, looking down at the wooden floor.

“Better yet,” Tom chuckled. He pushed off the bed and picked Harry up like a small kitten, carrying him to the bed and laying him comfortably, his hands immediately moving to his legs, holding them firmly as he started to massage slowly. “We will talk like this, my wife,” he said.

Harry moaned, smiling as Tom seemed to just press the right points on him. Tom chuckled at Harry’s reaction. “Spanking.”

“Yes, Daddy.”

Tom laughed, “I wasn’t even asking if you liked it, even though I know you do.” He chuckled, “I was just imagining what your delicious ass would look like now all red from my marks.” He squeezed Harry, earning Tom a delicious moan that slipped past his lips. “To make this easier,” Tom purred, “Why don’t we simply agree that everything we’ve done before, is a yes?”

“Yes, Daddy,” Harry moaned.

“Good boy,” Tom chuckled. He moved his hands from Harry’s legs and sat Harry up. “Now for new stuff,” he said. He looked around the bedroom for a moment before looking at Harry. “Take a walk, look at my toys and ask about them.”

Harry nodded and slipped off the bed. He first went to the black leather large X with straps. “What is this?” he asked.

“St. Andrew’s Cross,” Tom said. “I strap you in there, and you are mine to play with as much as I want.”

“That sounds nice,” Harry hummed. He let his fingers brush against the leather before moving on. It took an hour, but Harry examined every toy Tom had, nodding at his explanation and agreeing to wanting to try it. When he was done, he turned and smiled at Tom, “I don’t see any toy I don’t want to play with, Daddy,” he teased.

“Good. Then I will draw up our contract immediately,” Tom said. He checked his phone for the time and smirked. “It is almost dinner time,” he said.

“So?”

“So why don’t you put on a pretty pair of panties and make some dinner for us while I type out our contract, Harry,” Tom said. “When I’m done, I’ll come and help you.”

“This better not be a regular thing,” Harry muttered, but he took his clothes off until he was only in his underwear and walked out of the sex room. He paused at the doorway and turned to Tom. “Tom, that spy you and Lestrange were talking about,” he began.

“Nothing for you to worry about, Songbird,” Tom said.

“I want to watch you interrogate him,” Harry said, shaking his head. “I lost my stomach with Parkinson but, but I know I can handle this.”

“No! You are my Songbird I will not let you be tarnished—”

“I’m more than tarnished Tom,” Harry said, “I was tortured too—almost killed. Besides, I want to be tougher.”

“But you don’t have to be—”

“I know I don’t, but I want to,” Harry said. “This Grindelwald person sounds dangerous from how you and Lestrange talked about him and, and I want to be ready. Just in case.” He was breathing a little nervously. He looked up at Tom, his eyes pleading, “Please, Lord Voldemort,” he said, “let me watch.”

Voldemort breathed sharply, as blood rushed to his hardening cock. He stood and walked to Harry, grabbing his hair and jerking his head upwards for a demanding kiss. “The things you do to my Songbird,” he purred. “If you come, I will not let you leave—ever. You’ll be mine forever, do you understand?”

“Voldemort, I already am yours,” Harry breathed, lifting up his hand with the engagement ring. Voldemort smirked at that, he took the hand in his.

“You are correct Songbird,” he whispered. “You are mine. _Mine_. I am your past, your present, and your future. This,” he tapped the ring with his finger, “is our eternity.” Harry smiled at that, he liked the idea, of being Voldemort’s.

“Yes, sir,” he breathed, “my beautiful husband.”

Voldemort chuckled, “Go cook, Songbird. I will be with you later.” Harry nodded and walked away, he prided himself on how quickly he seemed to be able to spot the differences between Tom and Voldemort. They were the same person, yes, two sides of the coin, and all his husband.

He went to the more intimate kitchen, locking the door that led outside just in case one of Voldemort’s henchmen tried to come in, and turned to the stove as he figured out what he wanted to cook. He was in the mood for rice and vegetable stir fry.

Harry hummed to himself as he started cooking, gathering the ingredients, and getting the stove together, before he started singing softly to himself. He lost himself easily in the act of cooking, and found himself actually swaying a bit, any embarrassment or nervousness he had on just wearing panties long gone.

Tom came down twenty minutes later, holding onto a piece of paper. He placed it on the table and snuck up to Harry, grabbing his lover and pressing his clothed crotch into Harry’s ass, “You look so sexy like this Harry,” he purred before inhaling Harry’s scent. “I’ll take over, you go sit down and look pretty as you look over our little contract.”

Harry let go, allowing Tom to take control of cooking as he continued to press against him. Harry moaned at the contact, but squirmed away, making sure to brush his hand slowly against Tom’s crotch as he moved to the table.

The contract was short, listing everything that they will not do, along with Tom’s solemn swear to never do anything to permanently mark or hurt Harry, along with a space for a safe word and their signatures. “There’s no safe word,” Harry pointed out.

“That is because I want you to think of it, love,” Tom said.

“Okay,” Harry nodded. He thought for a moment, staring at the paper. His eyes turned to Tom as he thought of a word, a very unsexy word, that he could remember if he needed it. “How about… Pluto?”

“Pluto?” Tom snickered. “Why that word?”

“I don’t know, just seems like a word that we’ll never say during sex,” Harry shrugged. “And it’s easy to remember!”

“Alright, Pluto,” Tom nodded. “Write it down and sign your name, Songbird.”

Harry nodded and written down ‘Pluto’ in the blank space before signing his name. Tom signed it too and read it over. “Bring that to our room,” he commanded. “I’ll find a place to keep it safe in there.”

“Yes Daddy,” Harry smirked.

“And after we eat, we will go to our other room, and I will dress you up nicely for our little interrogation,” Tom said matter-of-factly. “I will not have my wife attend in simple jeans.”

Harry laughed at this and gave a small swirl, “But panties are suitable for cooking?” he joked. Tom actually growled in the back of his throat.

“Only for me,” he said. “Go Songbird, I gave you an order.” Harry couldn’t resist the sense of thrill that shot through him. He smiled as he stood up and took the piece of paper, making his way back to the dead end hallway with the bookshelf and pulling the book that will open up the door to their kink room. Their! His smile grew, Tom said it was theirs—that both rooms were theirs! Harry sang happily as he dropped the piece of paper on the nearby dresser, turning around without even looking at his clothes, for after all Tom did not order him to get dressed, and returned back to the kitchen.

They ate silently, Harry cleaning up afterwards before Tom picked him up and carried him back to their bedroom. “My wife’s first interrogation,” he muttered, “this is also going to be your first meeting some of my more higher members. Now, what to dress you in?” Tom smirked and looked back at Harry. “Stand still,” he ordered.

Harry did and he watched Tom move around, muttering to himself as he moved from closet to dresser and back again. He settled on pants, oddly enough. For a moment, Harry was certain that Tom was going to have him dress in a dress or long skirt. But instead, tight black pants, and a loose emerald button up shirt were laid on the bed, with polished black dress shoes laid comfortably on the floor underneath. “I hope you don’t mind, but I took the liberty of buying some clothes in your size,” Tom said, “For business purposes, of course.”

“You knew that I would want to watch?” Harry asked.

“Yes, considering that you did not immediately run away during the Parkinson debacle,” Tom said. He turned to Harry and gave him a kiss, pinching his nipple as he did. Harry yelped and Tom smirked as he moved to the bed. He dressed Harry, moving the boy like a mannequin. Harry admired himself in the mirror, smiling. He looked good, almost like a real mafia member. Tom gave him a bracelet to go along with his ring and spent twenty minutes messing with Harry’s hair until it, like the rest of the young man, properly submitted to Tom’s touch.

“Perfect,” Tom smiled. “You are absolutely perfect, Harry.”

“I love you,” Harry said as Tom held him from the back, both staring at their reflections in the mirror. Both were wearing dark colors, but Tom was in all black, his hair slick back perfectly while Harry’s fell a bit more feminine and controlled. “How many people will be there?” he asked.

“The Lestranges, obviously,” Tom said. “We are meeting our new torturer as well, he is apparently one of the best mercenary money can buy, which is dangerous.”

“Because he’s loyal to the money and not the man?” Harry asked.

“Yes, very smart Harry,” Tom chuckled.

Harry shrugged, “It’s a common trope in movies and stuff,” he said. “Who else?”

“Crabbe and Goyle, they are loyal men. Idiots, but loyal,” Tom said. “They are cleaners. They make sure that the body will never be found, nor any traces will lead to us, if there are any traces left. Goyle is also the man whose wife is making your wedding dress.”

“That’s sweet of him, and I like what you picked,” Harry smiled. “Laces with emerald.”

“Green always reminds me of snakes, I must confess,” Tom smirked. “And I feel more at home in a den of vipers than a house of confessors. But never mind that, we have an interrogation to get to.” Like a switch, Harry felt his presence switch, and when their eyes met, Harry found himself smiling at Lord Voldemort.

“Take me, my Lord,” he smiled, offering his hand. Voldemort slipped from behind him and took his hand gently. They shared an almost sadistic smirk and moved to leave the room. Voldemort escorted Harry down the hall and once again towards the basement. They stopped at the door when Harry said, “Promise me one thing, Voldemort?”

“Yes, Songbird?” Voldemort chuckled, looking at his love.

“Give me good material for my book,” Harry said, and he opened the door and walked past Voldemort down the stairs.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

The basement was just as Harry remembered it, although there were more people there than he remembered. He recognized the Lestranges, the two men and Bellatrix sitting against the far wall. The men watching the person in the center intensely while Bellatrix busied herself with her make-up. Adjacent to them, sitting by the torture tools, were two thick men built of equal fat and muscles and dressed in business suits. One man was very focused on polishing his shoe as he had his leg crossed over his knee, while the other looked around quietly. There were also, on the opposite side of the Lestranges, sitting next to empty cells, grim-faced people in black suits. In the center was the main event: a bloodied man tied in the chair just as Parkinson was all those times ago. Standing next to him was a tall lean handsome man, who was sharpening his knife.

Eyes turned to Harry as he entered, followed immediately by Voldemort. His followers all stood up and muttered, “My Lord.”

The Lestranges all nodded knowingly to Harry’s presence, while the others all watched with some bewildering puzzlement. Voldemort just chuckled at their responses and looked around, waiting. Immediately one of the grim-faced men stood and picked up his chair, offering it for Voldemort, placing it right in front of the soon-to-be-tortured prisoner. Voldemort stepped towards it, Harry following. “I have to wonder,” Voldemort said aloud, “what I have done to cause you all to insult me in this matter. You produce a chair for me, so I can ask our guest a few questions, but not one soul here has dared to move to offer a chair to my dear fiancé?”

Bellatrix snorted, closing her compressed mirror as she pointed at another grim-faced man, “You, up,” she said. The man she pointed to jumped out, scared, and dragged his chair directly next to Voldemort’s. He turned to run away but Voldemort grabbed his hair, pulling him back roughly.

“What is your name?” he asked, though it did not bother to him. He knew this man’s type. He was older than Voldemort by at least a decade. He was not part of his inner circle. These three gaunt faced men were leachers. Men hungry for power but have an inflated ego about themselves. “Warren,” the man grunted. “Andrew Warren.”

“Well, then you think to insult my fiancé, I believe that you need to relearn your manners. Crabbe! Goyle! Open the cell.” He barked. The two big men jumped up and ran towards the cells at the end of the room. One of them opened the cell door while the other prepared a special chair that had spikes on its seat and back. Pulling by his hair, Voldemort dragged the older man towards the cell and threw him in. The man in the cell caught him and forced him onto the chair, his screams piercing the door. Harry flinched slightly but watched as he was strapped in. “The trick is to stay completely still,” the big man in the cell chuckled. His voice sounded familiar and Harry figured that he was Goyle. “Move slightly to the left or right and, well, you’re in for a rather nasty sting.” He laughed at his own joke and patted the man’s shoulder hard, causing him to fall further on the multiple spikes. The man screamed again, and Harry looked up at Voldemort.

“He’s giving me a headache,” he said.

“Gag him,” Voldemort ordered. The other man, Crabbe, grabbed a long old cloth that was laying on the ground and moved into the cell, gagging the man before both men left the cell, closing and locking it and returned to their seats. Voldemort cleared his throat and looked at the handsome man in the center, “I apologize for that display of disobedience,” he said. “I do hope that Mr. Warren’s behavior has not soured my coin.”

“It did not sir,” the torturer said.

“Good, now if I understand your name is a Mr. Martin, but you are known in the professional circles as ‘Dagger’ correct?” Voldemort asked, “because of your preference towards them?”

“That is correct, sir,” Mr. Martin said.

“And you take great pleasure in causing pain with these daggers?” Voldemort asked.

“I do,” Mr. Martin said, giving a perverted, sadistic grin. “The feeling of my daggers dragging along flesh, cutting apart muscles and slowly etching into bones is a satisfying sensation to feel, sir.”

“Excellent, then you will enjoy tonight as much as I will hopefully,” Voldemort said. He looked at Harry, “Sit down,” he commanded, indicating to the chair just left of the chair that was directly in front of the interrogation chair. There was about six feet distance between the interrogation and the two chairs, and Harry gladly sat down, looking up at his lover. Mr. Martin raised an eyebrow at this. “Two interrogators, sir?” he asked.

“No, he is my fiancé, and will just be watching, I shall be asking the questions,” Voldemort said.

“If I may, sir, it is not commonly wise for people in our positions to bring our spouses in, unless they have already been introduced to this sort of profession, of course,” Mr. Martin said.

“I’ve seen this stuff before,” Harry spoke up. “I know what is going to happen, and I am looking forward to it. My husband has promised me a grizzly show, and I hope that you can live up to it, Mr. Martin.”

Mr. Martin chuckled at that and nodded, “I will impress,” he promised.

Voldemort sat down next to Harry, and for the first time examined their guest in the seat of honor. He looked completely unassuming. Older than both Harry and Voldemort, the man had short brown hair, wore just a pair of jeans and a long sleeve shirt. He had bruises and shallow cuts over his face, the cuts staining parts of his face red with his blood. Like the man in the cage, he too had a gag cloth in his mouth.

Voldemort stared at the man for a moment before looking at Mr. Martin, “I don’t think he will talk even if we are polite to him,” he said, “Would you mind loosening him? I believe a finger will do.”

The gagged man protested, but it did not move any of them as Mr. Martin pulled out a long, sharp dagger. Voldemort glanced at Harry subtly to make sure he watched. Harry was. His eyes were fixated on the knife, following it entirely in its arch as it slammed into flesh and bone, severing the pinky. The man screamed against the gag. Rabastan stood up and pulled out a handkerchief, wrapping the finger in it and returned to his seat. “Now that we have a gift for Grindelwald, I feel like talking,” Voldemort said. “Mr. Martin, if you will.”

The torturer pulled the gag from the man’s mouth and Voldemort leaned back. “Hello, I am sure you know who I am, now would you be kind enough to introduce yourself?” The man in the chair glared at Voldemort.

“Go fuck yourself,” he sneered. Voldemort immediately stood up to punch the man, grabbing the back of his head and slamming it to the back of the chair hard enough that the wood groaned. “Now that was not very nice, was it?” Voldemort said, “All I wanted was your name, good sir.”

“Like I’d talk to a faggot like you.”

Voldemort’s grip hardened and he held out his free hand for a knife. Mr. Martin provided, and Voldemort started carving the man’s face, earning loud screams as more and more of the skin was peeled off. Harry winced at the screams and squirmed in his chair, doing his best to stay still. He felt weird, he didn’t felt instantly sick, and yet he was both scared and fascinated as he watched his lover. In the screams, Harry thought he heard a name, but he couldn’t make it out. Voldemort, however, seemed to hear it clearly as he smiled, “Now, was that so hard, Percival Graves?”

The man named Percival glared at Voldemort. Voldemort returned to his chair and smiled at Percival Graves. “Now, where to begin with your little master Grindelwald?” Voldemort purred. “Shall we begin with where he is and when he will arrive into my town?”

“Like I’ll ever tell you about the Great Grindelwald!” Graves laughed. “He will kill you all and take over this miserable city—”

“I’m sorry I cannot hear you properly, Mr. Martin, can you perhaps extend his mouth?” Voldemort asked. Mr. Martin smirked and grabbed Percival’s head. Harry watched as he forced his knife in the man’s mouth and pulled against the edge of his lips. A strange muffled scream was heard, and when Mr. Martin moved away, all Harry saw was red and angry eyes. His eyes met with Percival’s, and the man spat blood that sprayed onto Harry’s cheek. It was wetly warm causing Harry to shiver disgustingly. Voldemort stood immediately and slammed his fist into the man’s head, punching him again and again, grunting with each blow as his fists stained red. “I’m going to ask you again, you little bitch,” Voldemort growled out. “Where is Grindelwald?”

“Boat, he’s arriving soon by boat,” Graves said, “or he’s already here. He’s going to kill you—”

Voldemort punched him again. He grabbed a knife from Mr. Martin and slammed the knife into Percival’s arm, pushing until he couldn’t push anymore then he dragged it towards him, Percival’s screams filling the air. “Don’t you dare threaten me or my fiancé,” Voldemort sneered. He sat back down and nodded at Mr. Martin.

“See what else you can pull out of him,” Voldemort commanded, and the torturer got to work.

Harry couldn’t look away. He was all too aware of the blood spit on his cheek, the wet disgustingness slowly dragging downwards, but he couldn’t move his hand to wipe it. He felt like his body was frozen, watching as Mr. Martin worked with his knives, cutting, and slicing the man in the chair earning so many different octaves of screams. Harry did not even knew that a person could scream so differently. The weirdest thing at all was that he didn’t feel sick anymore. He felt oddly calm, enthralled even. He did not want to run away. He just wanted to watch and watch as the man’s life bled out and his screams turned into ramblings as he provided nothing else useful before he fell into shock.

Voldemort sighed and stood up. He gave the man’s head a couple slaps and punches, his hands getting bloodier still. Graves did not respond. Voldemort looked around. “Our fun is done,” he said. “Crabbe, Goyle, clean up this mess, along with that mess over in the cage. I did not even noticing him dying,” Voldemort nodded towards the cell. “Lestranges, I want men watching the piers. Mr. Martin, we will call upon your services next time.” Without looking any anyone else, Voldemort left the basement, Harry getting up to follow him.

They moved to their bedroom where Voldemort pulled Harry into a demanding kiss. “Go clean up, Songbird,” he commanded. “I want some fun tonight.”

Harry moaned and looked up at his love, “Can we have fun… without cleaning?” he asked, blushing deeply. “Watching you be so violent it… it made me wet.”

Voldemort smirked approvingly, pushing his Songbird to his knees. “Of course Harry, in that case, undress me.”

“Yes my lord,” Harry whispered, winking as he unbuttoned Voldemort’s pants and pulled it and his underwear down in one expert pull. His reward was a large thick cock smacking against his cheek which got Harry to grin. He licked the head, moaning between little kisses as he tasted the musty flavor that was his lover. He kissed and licked down the impressive length to two balls which he gave equal reverence. “You’re such a good wife, Harry,” Voldemort said, his bloodied hands combing through Harry’s hair. “You treat me so good. Was the torture everything you expected?”

“Yes, husband,” Harry said.

“Good Songbird, and you get a reward for sitting through it all,” Voldemort smirked, “get me wet.” Harry smiled and kissed his way up Voldemort’s cock before pushing forward, swallowing the thick appendage as he tried his best to be as sloppy as possible. Harry pushed himself down past his gagging point so he could bury himself in Voldemort’s pubes, inhaling the rich smell as his throat constricted and spittle flooded from his lips as he gagged. Voldemort held him there until Harry started to feel dizzy. Harry pulled away, the cock slipping out of his mouth as he gasped. His chest pounded but he needed to do it again so when he caught is breath he once again deepthroated Voldemort, feeling the cock ram against the back of his throat and down. He groaned as Voldemort once again held him there. Harry pulled away once more and coughed.

“Get naked and lie on the bed with your head hanging off the edge,” Voldemort commanded. “I’m going to fuck your mouth.”

Harry nodded and took off all his clothes, revealing his own erection. He crawled towards the bed and laid on his back, looking up as Voldemort approached him. Harry happily opened his mouth, his tongue sticking out to catch Voldemort’s cock as the man’s hands went for Harry’s throat. “Relax,” he commanded and slowly slid in.

His cock easily went through Harry’s mouth and into his throat, Voldemort admiring the outline of his cock he could see on Harry’s neck. He kept his hands onto it and whispered a “fuck” as he felt the skin move up under his fingers as his cock slid deeper into Harry’s throat before sliding back. Underneath him, Harry gagged and coughed, his throat constricting and feeling so good around Voldemort’s cock. He stopped; his cock firmly planted inside. “Breathe, love, breathe through your nose,” Voldemort instructed. “Remember, hit my leg three times if it’s too much.”

Harry nodded around the cock, his throat still convulsing as he breathed heavily through his nose. He started to feel lightheaded, his eyes were teary but still he soldier through as each breath gotten easier and easier. Harry moaned when he was ready, and Voldemort started to move once more.

The man was not gentle. He built up to a brutal pace, his hands holding Harry still as he used the boy as a sex toy. Harry gagged and sputtered, the cock opening his throat in ways it hasn’t done before. He moaned and his cock got hard at the dehumanizing way he was used. He could see nothing but Voldemort’s cock and balls. The man’s strong muscles flexing as he thrust in and out, working with an almost demonic agility as precum and drool leaked from Harry’s lips. The room filled with the sounds and smell of sex as Voldemort cursed and grunted before pulling out completely and cumming on Harry’s face. Thick ropes splattered on Harry’s face, some landing on his tongue and mouth as others stained his hair, forehead, and cheeks. Voldemort used his still hard cock to smear his cum around, smirking. “You look like such a whore Songbird,” he said. “But that’s what you are, you’re Daddy’s whore.”

“Yes,” Harry moaned. “Daddy’s whore.”

“Now show me your pussy like the good whore you are,” Voldemort growled. He gave Harry’s cheek a couple slaps to get him moving. Harry scrambled to turn around and spread his legs for Voldemort. The older man gave a satisfied noise as he stared at it. “Look at that,” he purred, slipping a finger in easily. “No lube and you’re already swallowing a finger. Such a whorish cunt you have. That needs punishing, Songbird.”

“Sorry Daddy,” Harry blushed.

“Don’t be, you’ll love this punishment,” Voldemort chuckled. He pulled his finger out and grabbed a bottle of lube. He spread some around Harry’s hole before rubbing his cock in a lubed hand. “Let’s see if your hole knows its owner,” he said, and slammed his cock in. The pain was delicious for Harry. He screamed and his cock jerked in reaction.

Voldemort never was gentle. He fucked Harry with a vicious beastly quality that Tom never had. It was scary, yet it turned Harry on. Under Voldemort’s heavy hands, Harry came several times all untouched while Voldemort filled his hole again and again with his seed. “Make me pregnant,” Harry whined, “Please! I need it!”

They only stopped when they were too exhausted to continued and so cum-covered and sweaty, Harry curled into Voldemort and fell asleep.

The next morning, Harry felt disgusting as the cum dried on his naked body. He groaned and kicked out his leg at Tom. “Ow! What was that for, love?” Tom muttered sleepily.

“I feel gross, come shower with me and help me clean up,” Harry complained. Tom laughed at that, his hand reached down to Harry’s loose and abused hole.

“Did Songbird’s pussy get more of a pounding than he expected?” He asked in a mocking tone. “Daddy is so sorry.”

“Daddy will be sorry when Songbird says no to sex,” Harry said. That earned him a spank and an amused look from Tom.

“As if you can ever deny me,” Tom said. He got out of bed and lifted Harry, carrying the younger man into the bathroom. “Why would you, my love, when you get pampered so?” He purred as he bathed Harry.

As he commanded, Tom had the ports of Hogwarts under heavy surveillance. Every day, he had reports of every person and shipment that entered and left Hogwarts via the sea. There was nothing unusual to report for all of January. Hogwarts functioned as normal, and the fears of Grindelwald slowly dampened to an anxiety as day in and day out, no reports of the man ever reached Tom or his people. Harry started his new semester at college, and Tom’s focus split between making sure his love does well in school along with the reports from the docks.

It was a crisp day in February, the sun was shining down on Hogwarts when in its station, an express from across the country slowly pulled in. The doors opened and a crowd of people walked out. They all moved as one as they walked off the platform and into the station before splintering off to their own destination. A group moved towards the glass doors that led outside and into the city streets where the group would still split further, going up or down depending on their destination. Except for one man. He followed the crowd from the train, down the platform into the station, onto the streets, all while being one of the mindless, shrinking mob of pedestrians until he stopped right outside the train station and took a breath.

He was an older man of forties with bleached blonde hair and a well-kept mustache and goatee. The man was dressed in a dark suit, wearing a black overcoat and hat which he took off as he breathed deeply in, his eyes yellow as he turned around slowly, humming his own tune. After one full rotation, the man stopped, replaced his hat on his head and turned, walking down the street as he continued to hum his merry tune, taking a tourist’s pace as he strolled around Hogwarts.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

Harry was relaxing with his friends Draco and Blaise. They were all home, shirtless as normal with Harry stretched over between the two of them. “God I’m so tired,” he whined. “Work was just plain awful.”

“Let me guess, fangirls of yours?” Blaise chuckled, earning him a harsh glare.

“Told you not to accept their proposal to do a show at the drag club Harry,” Draco snickered. “Now you’ll have all those straight women who will want to pocket you. Or men wanting to give you a ride.”

“Please don’t,” Harry groaned. “I don’t want to think about what Tom will do if someone actually offers that.”

“What? Like, kill them?” Blaise smiled. Harry stared at him, thinking, _No, most likely worse than that._ He didn’t mention however, there was no need to, instead, he rolled off of his friends and pushed himself to stand. “I’m going to the kitchen; do you want anything?”

“Nah I’m good,” Blaise said.

“Water,” Draco demanded. Harry nodded and walked towards the kitchen. He grabbed two cups and stood in front of the sink as he filled them. He looked out of the window as he did so, watching the limited view of the park that the window provided. He returned a moment later and Blaise asked, “So, what will you do with your soon-to-be screaming fans?”

“All those girls who will be like, ‘ahh be my friend Harry!’ ‘Let's go shopping Harry!’ ‘Becky, Karen we finally have one!’” Draco laughed. Harry smacked his head, which only caused the blonde to laugh more.

“Lord helps him when they figure out he’s dating a Daddy,” Blaise smirked. Harry turned and hit Blaise’s head too. “Ow! You don’t hit me! You hit Draco, he’s your punching friend!” He complained but still smiled.

“Then don’t sick crazy girls on me,” Harry said, he sat down and spread onto Blaise. “Now give me a massage,” he demanded giving a huge smile.

“As if, dork,” Blaise said. He didn’t move Harry’s legs, instead relaxing into the couch and continued playing the game. The three spent the night relaxing and playing video games before they were too tired to even move the joystick. Harry yawned as he moved to his bed, shedding off his clothes. He didn’t bother with pajamas. That was a new hobby of his, going to bed naked. Stretching he looked out of the window to see the park ahead of him. He couldn’t believe how far he came. Only a few months ago he would go to the park for hookups, not caring about making any connections, and now he was in love and was the lover of a Mafia boss. _What a strange life I have,_ he thought. A light flickered in the park, like a quick snap, and Harry shook his head. “At least that park will never go out of business,” he said. Giving another yawn, Harry stretched once more and fell upon his bed before falling asleep.

Harry realized that with February comes Valentine’s Day, a “holiday” that he always ignored and didn’t care about because of two reasons. One was because he believed that it was a conspiracy created by Hallmark to sell cards and make middle-aged women watch their terrible movies. The second reason was that he was always single. But nevertheless, he always thought it was a stupid holiday, and still believed that today.

So a week before Valentine’s Day, Harry found himself after classes in Tom’s office waiting for his boyfriend. The secretary told him that he was at a meeting, so Harry had some time. He hummed as he browsed on his phone as he waited. Almost a full half-hour later, the door opened and Harry looked up, smirking. “Welcome to Riddle’s Inc. My name is Harry Riddle, how can I help you?” he purred.

“You can go under my desk and drink my piss and cum, but I think you would enjoy that immensely,” Tom said as he walked towards Harry. He pulled the younger man up for a kiss. “Hello Songbird,” he said.

“Hi Daddy,” Harry giggled. “Surprised?”

“Yes, my secretary told me nothing,” Voldemort nodded.

“Good!”

“So, what do I owe the pleasure of seeing my Songbird at work?” Tom asked. Harry got off of his chair long enough for the man to sit down and Harry fell onto his lap. Tom’s arms wrapped around him and they kissed again.

“I wanted to talk to you about something,” Harry said. “Do you believe in Valentine’s Day?” he asked.

“Not particularly,” Tom said, “Why? Do you expect me to wine and dine you on that day?”

“Mmm no, I honestly hate the holiday,” Harry shrugged. “And I rather not go out.”

“Good,” Voldemort said. “I actually have a business dinner on that night. It will be dull and boring,” he groaned.

“With who?” Harry asked.

“Politicians and the city’s mayor,” Tom said. “I need to make them feel useful and powerful, treat them good so that they believe they actually run the city.”

“Sounds like a waste of time,” Harry hummed. “Don’t you run everything basically?”

“Not openly of course,” Tom said. “But you are correct, love, in thinking that Hogwarts is ours.”

“Ours?” Harry asked.

Tom smirked, “Yes,” he chuckled. “The city belongs to Lord Voldemort and his rather surprisingly masochistic wife named Harry.”

“I guess it does,” Harry smiled. He looked up at Tom, “How long do you have until you can go home?”

“I have some paperwork I need to finish here,” Tom said. Smirking, Harry slipped off of Tom’s lap and knelt under the desk. He looked up with a naughty smile. “Then get to work,” he said.

Tom chuckled and pulled in his chair. Harry unzipped his pants and rubbed his face against his reward before swallowing whole.

The two left a couple of hours later, stopping for dinner. Harry smiled at his friends and a thought just popped in his head. “Guys! Let’s go ghost hunting on Valentine’s.”

Draco and Blaise looked up at Harry. “What?” Blaise said, looking confused while Draco just shrugged, “Okay.”

Blaise turned to Draco. “Okay!?” he asked.

“Yeah, sounds like fun,” Draco shrugged. “I’m sure there’s like books we can get at Harry’s shop and apps we can use on our phones.”

Blaise grumped something about white people and shook his head. “Fine, fine we’ll go, and I’ll just make sure that both of your asses get home.”

“Great! It’ll be so much fun,” Harry grinned.

“But what about Tom?” Blaise asked, “Doesn’t he have plans for you?”

“He has a work dinner,” Harry shrugged. “Big important boring people. He didn’t invite me because he knew I would be too bored.”

“Fine, but where will we do this?” Blaise asked. Harry thought for a moment, his mind drawing a blank.

Draco answered, looking at his phone. “There’s an abandoned house that’s supposedly very haunted. Nobody owns it so we can probably sneak into it easily. All your fun stuff happened. Murder, Satan stuff, demons… oh great, there’s a murder that happened on Valentine’s Day too.”

“So we’re just going to spend our Valentine’s talking to ghosts and demons who were killed on Valentine’s?” Blaise demanded, staring at the two of them.

“Yeah,” Harry grinned.

Blaise sighed, “You’re both lucky I love you. Alright, I’ll buy some books tomorrow before I drag you to the gym. Okay, Potter?”

“Sounds good, but Tom's picking me up so I'll have him drop me off” Harry smiled. He fell on the couch and grinned, “Let’s watch ghost videos so we know what we’re doing!”

“Nope, I’ll be in my room studying, you two bottoms can get freaky with ghosts all you want,” Blaise said, throwing his hands up. He walked to his and Draco’s room, slamming the door closed.

Draco turned to Harry. “This came out of nowhere, what caused you to suggest this?” he asked. “Are you and Tom okay?”

“We’re better than okay, I’m going to marry him! I just know it,” Harry smiled. “It’s just it feels like forever since the three of us have done anything and I don’t know, it’s strange dating a guy who’s a decade older than you. I want to do something stupid, something reckless and fun, and sneaking into an abandoned haunted house sounds perfect for that.”

Draco laughed. Smiling he shook his head and pulled Harry to him. “You seriously need to stop hanging around Tom and his guys all the time,” he smirked. “Your Daddy’s making you grow up, and this daddy doesn’t like that.”

Harry hummed and smiled at Draco, “Too bad I think of you as my mommy, but point taken.”

“Just put the videos on Potter,” Draco muttered.

The next day Harry had no classes. He was scheduled to work at The Marauders all day. The morning had its usual slowness. There were a couple of incidents, one including a very obvious drunk man wandering in but Sirius took care of him. The second was a small group of teenage girls who obviously skipped school. They whispered and pointed to Harry. He did his best to ignore them, helping out customers as the group of girls browsed, looking between him and the stairs to the gay section of the store. They were especially excitable whenever he went near the stairs or even up them to help out customers. After an hour of this, he had enough and marched straight towards them with a plastered smile. “Hello ladies, shouldn’t you girls be in school about now? It’s only eleven in the morning,” he said.

“Are you the drag queen who sings here once a month?” one particularly brave girl asked.

“Uh, I sing with them… why would you like a book about singing? Or maybe a history of drag show? We have a few that are really interesting—”

“Nah books are stupid,” the girl said. “We want to know how to get one.”

Harry could feel his irritation rising. His lips twitched yet he still had the same smile. “I’m sorry but I don’t understand what you mean. However, since you are not looking for a book, I have to ask you to please leave.”

“I mean a gay friend—and no we won’t leave until you tell me—”

“Hey, I actually want a boo—”

“Shut up!” the head girl snapped. She turned to Harry and sighed, “Look, just like maybe call your best friend and have her talk to us and we can get this done, okay?”

Harry’s frown started to slip. “One, that is personal information that I will not even think of sharing with minors. Two, for the second time this is a bookstore, if you are not here to buy books I ask you to please leave and last, of all, gay and LGBTQ people are not accessories for teenage white girls to swap around and dangle on their purses, so kindly get those thoughts out of your minds.”

The head girl scoffed at him, looking offended. “Wow! So rude,” she sneered. “Are you like even gay?”

“Okay listen here you little shit—”

“I’m sorry, is there a problem?” a man’s voice asked. Harry looked up to see an older man of around forty with bleached blonde hair and a well-kept mustache and goatee standing near them. He was wearing an old-style suit with a waistcoat and black overcoat that was open. He clapped his hands together and held them in front of him. “Apologies, truly,” he said. “I am wholly sorry for interrupting this little spat between the two of you,” he pointed his hands at Harry then the girl, never really letting them go from the prayer position. “However I am in desperate need of assistance and I desperately would ask—if that is alright—if I could borrow this obviously insulted and frustrated man from you three wonderful, privileged sheltered ladies. Please.” He looked between the two of them.

Harry’s first thought as that this man was very weird, however, if he would get him away from these girls, it would be a welcomed change. The girls did not answer. They just stared at him for a moment before backing off and walking out of the store. Harry breathed out and turned to the man. “Thank you, but I could have handled it,” he smiled. “Now what would you need help with?”

“Call me Gellert,” the man said. He finally unattached his hands and held one out for Harry to shake. He did so. Gellert’s grip was tight and his handshake firm. “Now—I would like several books actually, mostly on ghostly stuff. You know, ghosts and ghouls and supernatural stuff that will give you the chillies and willies and heebie-jeebies.”

Harry stared at him for a long moment. “You mean our supernatural section?” he asked.

“Yes—yes exactly that,” Gellert said. “Lead on, young one, lead on!” He waved his hand in an erratic matter and Harry just stared at him for a moment before shrugging. He turned and led the man to the supernatural section of the store, which Sirius filled with both fiction and instructional books, depending on your point of view. The man walked strangely in Harry’s opinion. He walked rather aloof and erratic, as though he was a little tipsy or wasn’t all there. However, as soon as the man reached the section he made a noise. “Ah! Yes, there we are, thank you very much,” he turned on his feet and nodded to Harry. “I will see you at the counter then, goodbye.”

Feeling like he was dismissed, and wanting to return to reality, Harry turned and left for the register. About twenty minutes later, the man returned with a small stack of books. “Thank you very much young man—goodbye,” the man said and turned and left, his strides unequal.

“What a weird guy,” Harry sighed. Thankfully, he was the most eccentric of Harry’s customers, and the day went smoothly with Blaise coming back during the afternoon. They hugged and Harry showed Blaise the books he pulled out during his break about ghost hunting. The two talked, Harry mentioning the annoying teens and the weird man before Blaise had to run back before he missed his class. Harry waved him goodbye and stretched. Just four more hours than Tom will pick him up.

As soon as Tom texted him he was outside, Harry ran out. Marcus Flint was sitting in the driver’s seat and Harry smiled and said hi to his friend before getting on his Daddy’s lap and kissing him deeply.

“Long day, Songbird?” Tom chuckled.

“You won’t believe it,” Harry said. “I had this really strange customer. Like he looked off the walls with the way he talked and walked. Saved me from some annoying teenagers who were skipping school, though.”

Tom chuckled, “And you didn’t run away?” he asked. Harry laughed coldly.

“I blame you for that,” Harry said. “Because of everything I’ve been through with you, a crazy dude is nothing compared to that!”

Tom chuckled, “I see, I’ve turned you into a kinky little pervert haven’t I?” he said. “Good for me.”

“Still waiting for you to fist me, Daddy,” Harry teased.

“Keep this up boy, and we will be giving Marcus a show,” Tom growled warningly. Harry blushed and glanced at his friend.

“Sorry,” he whispered and moved to sit next to Tom, buckling up. Marcus just chuckled and smirked, “If I can speak freely, I would love a show, but I know Mr. Riddle would never allow it, would you?”

“You are correct.”

Harry grinned at that and cuddled next to Tom. “Oh, I got plans on Valentine’s Day,” he smiled. “Draco, Blaise, and I are going to visit a haunted house.”

“How romantic,” Tom drawled, “but it does sound like fun. I remember doing stuff like that when I was your age.”

Harry winked, “Don’t be jealous if a ghost finds me sexy and wants to have sex with me, okay?”

“As if, we both know that your pussy belongs to me, don’t we Songbird?” Tom said, his hand snaking down to squeeze Harry. Harry moaned and nodded. “In fact… I think I’ll visit you on Valentine’s before the dinner, just to remind you.”

“I can’t wait,” Harry breathed.

February 14th was a cloudy Saturday. Harry, Draco, and Blaise were all set up for their exploration. They had backpacks filled with water bottles, flashlights, and recorders that Draco swore would capture E.V.P.s. Draco even went extra and gotten each of them night vision cameras so they can film everything they see. It was late evening, the sun has already set, when there was a knock on the door. “Harry! Your Daddy is here!” Draco yelled out.

Harry ran to see Tom standing in the doorway. “Hello boys,” he said, “I just wanted to wish my Songbird and you two good luck in your little ghost hunt. How I wish I were going with you instead of going to this most boring dinner.”

“Yeah definitely,” Draco smirked. “Harry, Blaise, and I will be waiting downstairs, alright?”

“Okay,” Harry said. The two left and Tom brought Harry into his room. “What’s up, Tom?” he asked.

“A little present from your Daddy,” Tom smirked. “Get your pants off and bend over. Now.”

Harry jumped and nodded. He unbuckled his pants and quickly spun around, bending over his bed as he pulled his pants down, kicking his legs out. He spread his legs and cheeks, showing Tom his hole.

“Beautiful,” Tom breathed. “Should still be loose from the fucking I gave you,” he smirked, easily pushing two fingers into Harry’s pussy. The boy moaned, his cock jumping at attention. “And how are the marks from the whipping?” Tom wondered, pushing Harry’s shirt up to reveal red lines all along his back. “Do they hurt?” he asked.

“No,” Harry answered honestly. “I loved it.”

“Good boy,” Tom said. He removed his finger and Harry gave a whine. “Such a whore, don’t worry Songbird, your pussy will love this gift.” Harry heard a snap and felt cold lube rubbing all over his hole. Harry shivered in anticipation and soon felt something equally cold push against his hole. It entered rather easily, and Harry moaned as his hole started to stretch larger than Tom’s cock. It went deeper and deeper, and Harry started to sweat as his muscles convulsed and resisted against the mass. It felt thicker than his wrist and easily longer than eight inches. “Relax boy,” Tom commanded. “This is practice. The knot is coming up.” Harry gave a loud screaming moan as he felt the toy’s knot tease his hole before forcing itself in. Harry felt like he was going to split in two. Tom did not even rock the toy in, just an unending push as his body adjusted. His hole then contracted against the toy as it got smaller and he felt a base pressed against him. “Look at my good boy! You took that plug all the way in!” Tom praised. He kissed Harry passionately, now moving the plug back and forth causing the boy to moan.

“I don’t want you to come at all,” Tom commanded. “You only come by my cock and body, not by any toy. Understand, boy?”

“Yes Daddy,” Harry breathed.

“Good. I will be back tomorrow morning to pull it out,” Tom said. He dressed Harry, and the boy gave a squeak as the toy moved inside him. It felt so heavy and weird. He walked awkwardly before forcing himself to keep his legs together. His cock twitched inside his pants.

Draco and Blaise were waiting in Draco’s car and Harry immediately slapped his hand to his mouth as he sat down, the toy pushed inside him. “You okay Harry?” Blaise asked.

“Mmm-hmm,” Harry nodded.

“Good, then let’s go see some ghosts, I guess,” Blaise shrugged, and he drove away.

He drove away from the college and their apartment towards the more suburban part of the city. The houses were spread enough to have a small lawn and being separated by fences. Blaise stopped in front of one house whose lights were off, the fence looked run-down, and lawn overgrown. The neighboring houses were also dark; however, their lawns were maintained. “Good, looks like our neighbors are out,” Draco smirked. “Come on loves!”

Draco jumped out of the car and hopped the fence easily. “I think he’s more excited than you are,” Blaise said, “and this is all your idea.” He turned the car off and locked it as he and Harry got out. They both hopped the fence and met with Draco at the front door. Draco was fiddling with the doorknob and a moment later, the door slid opened. “Still got it—come on!”

The three walked in and turned their flashlights on. The foyer looked old, made of a dark wood with furniture that was coated from dust. There was a mirror next to an old hat stand, a lamp, and a couple of armchairs. In front of them was a stairway that led to the second floor with a door right in front of them, and an open arch into what looked like a family room to their right. “Okay, so I’ve looked this place up,” Draco smiled, turning to face Harry and Blaise. “This house is supposed to be very haunted. Ghosts, shadow people, even some people were talking about seeing demons or the devil here.”

“Oh fun, we’re spending date night with the devil,” Blaise grumbled. “I’m guessing you’re going to tell us about any murders that happened here?”

“Of course!” Draco grinned. “There are two known murders here. The first happened five years after this house was built in Nineteen-Thirty-Four. This woman named Elizabeth Borden reportedly killed her husband and baby daughter. She butchered both of them with a small ax and buried her daughter in the basement. Elizabeth Borden then wrote a note, claiming that she was possessed by the devil, who forced her to kill her family. Needing penance, instead of going to the police, she hung herself right on top of where she buried her daughter, with a note saying all that she did along with a warning: Leave this home, for the Devil Resides here.”

“Fucking hell,” Blaise whispered. “What did you two rope me into?”

Draco smirked. “Obviously, people kept buying the house on and on, adding their own changes until the last owner. Funny enough, most owners ran out after living here a month, and if they don’t run, then they die in this house. The last owner was a married couple named Martha and Ryan Allen. On Valentine’s Day in Nineteen-Eighty-Nine, the couple was reported screaming at each other by their neighbors. The screaming suddenly stopped, and the neighbors thought nothing of it. Days passed and a foul smell started coming from the home. It wasn’t until a week afterward when Martha’s sister come other after her calls being ignored for days, that their bodies were found. Ryan was gutted, his intestine pulled out and his blood used to paint these strange sigils in their bedroom upstairs, while Martha was found hanging in the basement, exactly like Elizabeth Borden was found all those years ago.”

Harry felt a cold shiver as the end of his arm hair stood up. He looked around and swallowed. “Are they haunting this place?”

“Of course, along with reports of the demon who caused the murders, and shadow people. Investigators believe that the basement is a portal into another dimension that the harmful entities come from.”

“I’m saying it now,” Blaise said, looking at the two of them. “If I die, I’m haunting both of you before I drag you down with me.”

“Okay,” Draco shrugged. He looked around then back at Harry. “So, how do you want to handle this?”

“I don’t want to separate at the beginning,” Harry said, sounding scared. “How about we start upstairs? Where the man died?”

“Lead the way,” Blaise said. Harry nodded and looked around.

“Hello,” he called out as he walked to the steps. “We mean no harm—just want to talk with you guys. Elizabeth? Martha? Are you here?” The floor squeaked under him as he climbed the stairs. He felt hyperaware of everything around him. They went to the master bedroom where a dusty double bed waited, still made. They sat around and Harry fiddled with his flashlight so that it was barely wavering between on and off. He placed the flashlight off gently on the bed and sat away from it. He looked at Draco and Blaise who was already filming. He took out his own camera and started filming.

“Hello,” he said again. “My name is Harry, I heard about what happened to you and I’m sorry you were killed. We have devices that can hear you if you want to talk, but we also have my flashlight on the bed. You don’t need to move it much, but you can use it to talk with us. Turn it on for ‘yes’ and keep it off for ‘no.’ If you’re here, can you turn the flashlight on if you understand.”

“Why are you talking to the ghost?” Blaise hissed. “That is like the last thing you are supposed to do!”

“Stop worrying,” Draco hissed. “Nothing is going to happen.”

“Shh,” Harry said. He stared at the flashlight. “Turn it on if you understand!” he repeated. “Come on!”

A couple of seconds passed in silence. The flashlight turned on.

“OH SHIT!” Blaise screamed while Draco just yelled. Harry gave out a yell as well before calming down.

“Good, Good—turn it off now,” Harry commanded. The flashlight turned off.

“Dude what the fuck,” Blaise whispered. “What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck.”

“Shush!” Harry said. “The person who turned the light on. Are you Ryan?” The light stayed off. “Are you one of the murderers?” The light turned on before turning off again.

“Are you Elizabeth?” Draco asked. The light stayed off. The three boys looked at each other. _Tap tap tap._ “Did you hear that?” Draco whispered.

“No, what?” Blaise asked, looking around.

“I thought I heard tapping,” Draco whispered. “Harry?”

“I heard nothing,” Harry said. Draco’s eyes turned wide and he looked around scared. “I’m not lying, I swear—”

The light suddenly turned on from the flashlight and all three jumped. They stared at the flashlight. Harry swallowed. “Elizabeth, is that you? Can you turn off the flashlight?” The flashlight stayed on and they looked at each other. The three waited in silence but after a while, the flashlight stayed on. Harry looked towards Draco and Blaise before standing slowly and edging towards the bed. He reached out and grabbed the flashlight. “It’s cold,” he said, looking back at the two.

“Well now I’m freaked out,” Blaise muttered. “I hate this.”

Harry whirled around, frowning. “Did you hear that?”

“What?”

“I thought I heard a whisper, coming from outside,” he said pointing to the hallway.

“Wind?” Blaise suggested.

“Let’s go look,” Draco said. He stood and immediately went to the hallway. Blaise groaned and followed, with Harry behind them. The hallway was empty, as were the rooms on the second floor. The house creaked and settled as they moved. They looked at each other and Draco whispered, “We should separate. Just for ten minutes. Blaise, you take the bedroom, I’ll take the baby’s room, and Harry you get the basement.”

“Fuck no! I don’t want the basement!” Harry whispered.

“You’re the bravest of us! Come on,” Draco said. “Ten minutes, you can do it.”

Harry looked between them. “If I hear knocking or growls or anything I’m running,” he said.

“Fair enough,” Blaise said. He kissed Harry’s cheek and smirked, “For luck,” he said. Draco kissed Harry’s other cheek and said, “See you in ten.” Harry watched as Blaise returned to the bedroom and Draco went to the baby’s room. Steeling himself, Harry turned and made his way back to the first floor.

“Okay, here I am walking alone into the place where a baby is buried and two women hung themselves,” he said to the camera. “This is without a doubt the most interesting Valentine’s Day idea, and I’m probably going to get fucked by the devil or something.” He returned to the first floor and looked around. “The basement should be around here somewhere,” he said. Wandering slowly, he found a door that swung easily to reveal a dark staircase. “Oh fuck, oh god.” He walked down slowly. “Hello? Any demons? Elizabeth? Martha? Are you two down here?” he asked.

Silence answered him and he walked down to see a normal basement. The floor was concrete and walls stone. There was a very old washer and dryer along with exposed pipes and some metal chairs. “Just a basement, no demons here,” Harry muttered.

He whirled around, thinking he heard laughter. Swallowing he slowly moved his camera around. “Satan! Is that you?” He asked. Silence answered him. “Okay... I’m going to go sit in the middle, where Elizabeth buried her child and ask some questions,” he narrated. He moved to the center of the room and shivered as a sudden chill filled the room. He looked around, “If you’re here, show me something,” he commanded. “Knock on something, move something say something, touch me just do anything.” He went silent and listened.

 _Knock, knock, knock._ Harry jumped and turned around as he heard three quick knocks. “Elizabeth? Is that you?” Nothing answered. His flashlight flickered before turning off. Harry looked down, scared, and tried turning it back on but it didn’t work. “This had fresh batteries,” Harry breathed. “What?”

Then he heard it. Footsteps. They were faint, coming from somewhere around him. “Hello?” he asked, looking around in the darkness. His own lens being his own night-vision camera. He whirled that around slowly, seeing nothing. No shadows moved; no figures appeared. But he heard the footsteps again, followed by a whisper. “Who are you?” he demanded. “Say your name!”

A woman’s voice whispered but he couldn’t make it out. Harry’s body froze as the chill around him gotten worse. The room felt frigid, with the temperature dropping. He breathed out slowly and saw his breath. With scared hands, Harry reached for his bag and pulled out fresh batteries for his flashlight. Using the small screen on his camera to see, Harry replaced the batteries and held the flashlight close to him. He turned it on.

A man stood in front of Harry holding a shovel. Harry only saw his bleached blond hair and neatly trimmed goatee before the man swung the shovel, hitting Harry. He felt pain and fell to the floor unconscious.


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

Harry came to consciousness with his head ringing painfully. He felt cold. There was no breeze, but everything around him felt cold and bare. Vision came slowly to him and Harry realized that his arms were hung on top of him with cold handcuffs binding them. He struggled only to hear the handcuffs scrape against something and realize that his feet did not touch anything. His hole felt completely empty, and Harry thought he could hear footsteps.

His vision slowly returned to him, and for a moment he was thankful that he still had his glasses. The first thing he noticed was that he was in a small room with stone walls and floor. There were no windows, and only a staircase that led upwards. _I’m in a basement?_ He wondered. He struggled and looked down at his body. He was completely naked and dangling half a foot above the floor. Harry looked up to see his hands were indeed handcuffed and the chains of the handcuff slung over a huge hook.

“Good, you’re awake,” a voice smiled. Harry heard footsteps and slowly a man came into view. He looked around forty with bleached blond hair and a goatee. “I was worried that your little hit knocked you out too deeply,” the man said. “Though when I was preparing you I was very impressed to find this.” He lifted his hand and Harry saw his sex toy. “Ghost hunting with this stuffed in you? Where did Riddle find you, eh?” He chuckled and tossed the sex toy to the side. “I have to say, you are way more exquisite than I thought you would be.” The man stepped forward and stroked Harry’s cheek gently before slapping him. Harry gave a soft sound and glared at the man. “Yes! Give me that look, love, that is what I am looking for!”

Harry spat at the man, his glob of spit landing on his cheek. The man’s giddiness quickly changed to anger and Harry felt immense pain as he started punching Harry’s stomach over and over as if he was a human punching bag. He finished it with a punch to Harry’s head and snarled, “Don’t get any ideas with me, boy!”

Harry groaned, his vision swimming but his glare never softened. He just stared at the man until at last recognition hit him. “I saw you at work,” he said.

The smile returned. “You did! And I must say I really did want to do this easily, with you just hanging here looking so scrumptious. We would talk, we would laugh, I would kill your lover and take you by force if I have to. But now you just won’t listen—so I’m going to have to do this the hard way.” He pulled out a controller and pressed a button. The hook holding Harry rotated, Harry moving with it, until he faced the wall to the right of him. It was a full length mirror from one end of the wall to the other. Seeing his reflection made Harry feel embarrassed at his naked state. Instead of looking at his body, Harry focused on the table nearby pressed against the wall. It was full of torture devices. Knives and whips, chains and gags. The sight itself excited Harry a little, but the smile from the man dashed any excitement inside him.

“Who are you?” Harry demanded.

“You don’t know? The man asked, “Shame. Really disappointed in you Harry Potter, age 20. You are a student working towards an English Major, how stereotypical of you boy. You work at that lovely bookstore I visited, Marauders, which is own by a Sirius Black and his husband Remus Black. When you are not there or at school, you are usually at a few places, including an exclusive gym that is definitely out of your pay, at home in a quaint apartment with couple Draco Malfoy, heir of the Malfoy Fortune, and Blaise Zabini, both Twenty and both your childhood friends. Of course recently you are spotted quite frequently in the company of Tom Riddle, who is your beau, your fiancé, your special someone, your one-and-only, your treasured soul spirit, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera. I feel bad now, almost stalkerish, knowing all of these things about you but you do not even know my name!”

Harry stared at the man, clarity coming to him the longer he talked. The points inside his head all clicked together and he did his best to hide any fear as he said, “You’re that person, Grindelwald.”

“Yes! Finally—you have remembered that which you should have known in the first place!” Grindelwald said. He stepped back and bowed with a flourish, “Harry Potter it is my immense honor to meet you, I am Gellert Grindelwald.”

“You’re the guy that is trying to steal our city!” Harry said, his shock turning back into anger.

“Your city?”

“Yes! Hogwarts belongs to Tom and me!” Harry said. He swung his leg to kick Grindelwald, but the man caught his foot. He looked at Harry disappointed before letting go.

“You really do not want to test me Harry—I want to be your friend here! I don’t want any awkwardness or betrayal between us. Nakedness not standing,” Grindelwald said. “But if you keep going down this road, I will be forced to hurt you—and I really, really do not want to do that.”

“Why is that?” Harry asked cockily, “Scared of what my husband will do to you once he finds you?”

Grindelwald gave a loud laugh. “Your husband? No. Here is what I will do to your husband, Harry Potter. I will kill him. I will tie him down and cut him. His blood will be my lube and I will take you over and over again in front of him until all you can think about is me, desperate for my touch, and when you are at your highest, when all you feel is a carnal sexual desire for me, I will kill him.”

Harry did not feel fear. Instead he just laughed at Grindelwald, a disgusting sneer appearing on his beautiful face. “So that’s it?” he asked. “Tie my husband and rape me over and over until you finally get your jollies off?” Harry laughed loudly as he looked down at Grindelwald, “What? Do you have ED or something? You can only get it up by cucking a proper man?” Harry laughed as Grindelwald punched him again. He didn’t know where all of his courage came from, if it was courage. Or perhaps it was simply madness that drove Harry to laugh at Grindelwald’s punches and blows which sent waves of pain throughout his body.

“Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!” Grindelwald screamed. He rushed to the table and grabbed a knife. He held it threateningly at Harry. “I swear I will use this,” he growled.

The cockiness returned. “Go ahead,” Harry sneered. “I was already tortured by knives years ago, and she was just a teenage girl. What can you do?”

Grindelwald was very quick to anger it seemed as he threw the knife away and ran to the table once more, getting a cat o’ nines whip. “You will stay quiet!” he roared and struck Harry’s back.

Harry’s laughter stopped immediately at the stinging pain. He yelped and hissed. “Good, that seemed to do the trick,” Grindelwald said, whipping Harry again. The whip was very different from the whip that Tom used in that this one had barbs, painful barbs that dug into Harry’s skin, ripping small pieces out and causing blood. Anger fueled Grindelwald’s lashes, and Harry hissed at each one. He could feel warm liquid flow between the strikes on his back, and jolted at the pain. Grindelwald went on striking Harry. Five, ten, fifteen, twenty strikes… Grindelwald stopped, panting at thirty strikes and dropped the whip.

Harry’s back was reduced to an endless streak of red bloody lines that overlay and crisscrossed over each other. Blood stained the skin that the whip missed. His back was in pain, yes, but Harry refused to cry or look helpless. He stared at the reflection of Grindelwald. The man admired his work, stepping to Harry’s back. He felt a wet sensation and shivered in disgust as the man licked his back, starting at the bottom and moving upwards. Harry fought to keep his face stony as Grindelwald stepped in front of him, his lips and mouth area covered in Harry’s blood. He smiled at Harry madly, before looking sad.

“Look at what you made me do Harry,” he bemoaned, “I did not want to hurt you—never wanted to hurt you. You are too pretty; you need to join my collection.”

“As if I’ll join any collection of yours,” Harry spat.

Grindelwald smirked. “That is where you and I differ in opinions,” he said. He pulled out a phone and chuckled. “Now, I want you to give me your best smile, Harry. Riddle would not want to see you looking sad.” He moved back of Harry and Harry watched Grindelwald’s reflection as he aimed the camera at his back. Harry glared at the reflection, doing his best to hold up his middle finger. Grindelwald did not see this and took the picture, chuckling darkly. “Oh if only I can see Riddle’s expression when he sees this,” he muttered. “Harry Potter, I think you and I will have more fun together.”

“Yeah I’ll bet,” Harry muttered. Grindelwald giggled as he looked down at the phone, taking a few more pictures of Harry before leaving the room. Harry watched him go and took a breath. His arms were extremely tired from hanging over him, and his body did indeed start to ache just from the position he was in. It was also rather cold. He wiggled his body, flailing uselessly as he looked up at the hook his handcuffs are stuck on. The chain rattled in the hook, moving only slightly. Harry didn’t have the momentum or power to force it off. Groaning, Harry looked around once more.

The hook wasn’t attached to any fancy mechanic, just a small mechanism that turned him around. Getting an idea, Harry kicked his legs back and forth, trying to build momentum as he swung. He couldn’t swing much, the hook itself refused to move, so he was left with just his body as he turned and swung.

Like a swing, Harry slowly built an arch, grunting with pain with each kick. He looked up to see the chains moving slightly on the hook and smiled. He kept this up, kicking and pulling back his legs in the rhythm of the swing, hoping against everything that his chains would either break or move off of the hook. He was hard, slow work. His body quickly became covered in sweat, and just when it seemed that the chain would move closer to the hook’s edge the door opened.

Grindelwald walked in with a cup of water and stared at Harry. “Now what do you think you’re doing?” Harry glanced at the man and quickly changed his plan, using the momentum he forced the hook to turn, the machine groaning under the use, and kicked him in the face.

Grindelwald fell into the doorway and Harry smiled as he swung back and forth, glaring at the man. Grindelwald stood up slowly, picking up the split cup and looked at Harry. “Now, why would you ruin your drink like that?” he asked. “Here I am, being the perfect host and offering you water only for you to kick it in my face. I don’t get why you are being so ungrateful.”

“I’m just warming you up for when my husband comes here,” Harry panted.

Grindelwald sighed. “Harry, Harry, Harry, I think you’re under some delusion,” he said. “Riddle is not going to come in here all swashbuckling like an action hero to save you against a monstrous villain. He will come in here and BANG die like a moron. Savvy?”

Harry’s eyes grew cold. He stared at Grindelwald and gave out a dark laugh. Grindelwald stared at him and frowned, “What? What is so funny?”

“You idiot,” Harry laughed. “You murderous idiot, I can see all of your brain matter went to senseless killing than planning. I am not marrying the hero! I have no need for them. I’m marrying the monstrous villain. And when Voldemort gets here, I will have a front row seat of watching you die.” Harry continued to laugh.

Grindelwald screamed in anger. The knife he threw on the floor was quickly snatched and stabbed through Harry’s leg. That did not stop Harry’s laughter, however. He forced out his laughs, making them as cold and maliceful as he could as Grindelwald picked up the barbed whip once more and starting hurting Harry again.

Lord Voldemort was not happy. Far from it. His dinner that night was interrupted by a phone call from Draco Malfoy, telling him that he needed to get to the house they were investigating _NOW_. When he got there, he found Draco and Blaise looking frantic. Harry was not with them, and Draco was holding a camera. Voldemort immediately took it and watched the tape, horrified as he saw a man sneak up on Harry and knock him out. The camera fell to the floor and the last he saw was the man dragging his Songbird away. Grindelwald. He must have gotten in somehow. His anger only grew at that revelation. The fucking bastard played them.

Voldemort did his best to keep his calm. He turned to Draco and Blaise and made them promise not to call the police. He will handle this personally.

He called everyone in. Every single member from his inner circle down to his nameless, faceless grunts who were only cannon fodder. They were in a large warehouse just outside the city. He walked along a bannister that looked over everyone and stopped. There were almost a thousand people in all. A thousand of his people in the underworld, a thousand weapons to kill Grindelwald and his men, a thousand bodies to shield Voldemort and his Songbird from harm.

“Tonight, Grindelwald declared war on us,” Voldemort yelled out. “The man took us as a fool and snuck into my city! Under our watch! Punishment for this shall be swift, but first we have a man to kill. As some might know, I am to be married soon, and as an offense to me, Grindelwald took my fiancé, stole him right from under our noses. I do not care about your other duties, for from now until I have Grindelwald’s head, here are your orders! Find Grindelwald and his men! Find where he is keeping Harry Potter, and report to me immediately. If I sense failure, hesitation, or even a thought of betrayal or lack of effort, I will personally kill you along with your families. I do not care about your safety; I do not care about your lives—what I do care is this fucking German prick who thinks he can walk into _my city_ and thinks he can get away with it! Go out there and FIND HIM!”

That was last night. Nobody dared to talk to Voldemort since then. He stayed at the warehouse waiting for news, getting little to no sleep in between. It was now the afternoon and his phone buzzed. It was his personal phone, and it was a number he did not recognize. He opened the text message and the first thing he saw was Harry.

Harry was naked, his back ripped and bloodied. His face was not in pain or sorrow, but pure hatred as he glared at the reflection of the man taking the picture. Just at the top of the picture in the reflection, Voldemort noticed Harry’s middle finger. Under the picture was a message.

_Unknown: Hello Tom Riddle. We seem to have a common acquaintance in Harry Potter here. He is so looking forward to seeing you save him. That is, if you are willing to forgo Hogwarts for his safety. Here are some of my demands. I want you to bring me some money, about Fifty million, and once you, and only you, give me the money and run out of this city, I might let you live. Oh and Harry. He’ll be my newest in my little harem. I think he will look wonderful among my whores, don’t you? I’ll give you Twenty-Four hours._

“That cock bastard,” Voldemort growled. He took out his work phone and demanded Yaxley. The man limped towards him, the injured man, still recovering from the gun wound he received as punishment, bowed low. “My Lord?”

Voldemort handed Yaxley his personal phone. “There is an unknown number here. Track it,” he demanded. “Use everything we have. Including the police, if you are useless.”

“Yes, My Lord,” the man nodded. He walked away with Voldemort’s phone. Voldemort watched Yaxley carefully as the man walked down the stairs and into one of the small offices where Voldemort had several computers set up.

He took out his work phone and started pacing, his thumb mashing against the phone a little too roughly as he dialed a number. “Marcus, report,” he demanded when Marcus Flint answered.

“Nobody unusual has come to Harry’s apartment,” Marcus Flint said. “Everyone who entered and left are known residents.”

“And his roommates?”

“Blaise Zabini has been reportedly agitated and screaming at anyone who even knocks on their door, while Draco Malfoy has made several calls to his father and the police,” Marcus reported.

Voldemort frowned. “I did not receive any word about this from our pigs,” he said. “When did Malfoy call?”

“Two hours ago.”

“Keep watch, see if Grindelwald tries to contact them and call me the moment he does,” Voldemort commanded.

“Yes, my lord,” Flint said, and Voldemort hung up. He next called Rabastan Lestrange. “Lestrange.”

“My Lord.”

“Go check on the police, see why they have not informed me of any calls about Harry,” Voldemort demanded. “Afterwards, I need you to make sure our armory is stocked and ready for when I have Grindelwald’s position.”

“Yes, my Lord,” Rabastan said and hung up. Voldemort still felt an angry irritation. How dare this Grindelwald even think of trying to play with him. Squeezing his phone, Voldemort made his way down to the floor of the warehouse and into the small office that Yaxley walked in. He was standing next to a computer where a young girl was sitting, busy typing away with his phone plugged in.

“Report,” Voldemort demanded. The young girl glanced at Voldemort, jumped in fright before looking back at the computer. Yaxley looked immensely out of his depth as he stared at the computer as well.

“I’m tracing the signal but it’s bouncing around too much,” the young girl said. “Nothing I cannot handle but I need another two minutes.”

Voldemort sneered, clearly not pleased with the news. His phone rang again, this time the unknown number was calling him. “My Lord, this may be obvious but please keep him talking for as long as you can,” the young girl said.

Voldemort nodded. He picked up the phone and answered the video call. He inhaled sharply immediately. His Songbird was there, hanging off of a hook. His back and now front even more bloodied and whipped with a knife sticking in his leg. Still, he looked strong, glaring at the man behind the phone as he walked towards Harry, rubbing his hand over his body. “Look at all this blood,” Grindelwald cooed, “it’s okay if you cry now, isn’t it Harry? We have Riddle watching you now.”

“Tom?” Harry said, his voice sounded hoarse. He looked down, focusing on the phone. “Tom!”

“I’m here Harry,” Tom said staring at the picture of his beloved. “Grindelwald, let me see you.”

“What? No worries or declaration of love for you little Harry here?” Grindelwald chuckled.

“Voldemort,” Harry said, getting both men’s attention. “Can you please come and kill him now?”

“Tom, Voldemort, Voldemort, Riddle—what is it with you two? Is this a sex thing or something?” Grindelwald asked the screen flipping so that Voldemort was facing him. “All I heard about was this Tom Riddle ruining Hogwarts. Is Voldemort the boogieman name you’ve come up with to scare little babies?”

“Tell me where you are and you will find out why I am feared,” Voldemort said.

“Yes fear, funny thing about that, it doesn’t really inspire loyalty, does it?” Grindelwald said. “I wonder how many of your people, nearly a thousand I believe, are truly loyal to you. Do you even care for them? Care when you sentence them to death? Or do you only care about your possessions?” The man chuckled darkly, and he flipped the screen once more, showing Harry. “Do you care about this boy? Or is he just another one of your possessions? A toy to use and fuck as you will.” Harry glared at him and spat at Grindelwald. The man replied by pulling the knife on Harry’s leg, earning a scream of pain. “Your toy did not like that,” Grindelwald chuckled.

“I will kill you,” Voldemort glowered. “I will kill you and anyone who works for you.”

“Even Corban? Good man, Corban. Gave me everything I needed to start off with,” Grindelwald chuckled.

Voldemort stared at the phone before turning quickly to Yaxley. The older man had a gun out and aimed at the girl. Voldemort acted without thinking. He dropped his phone and pushed Yaxley away just as the gun fired. The girl screamed, both in shock and pain as the shot when through her arm, and both men fell onto the floor. Voldemort did not hesitate or even ask why Yaxley betrayed him. He just took out a knife and stabbed Yaxley’s heart. Leaving the man to bleed to death, Voldemort stood up and picked up his phone.

“I will kill everyone who stands between me and your head,” Voldemort snarled. “Even if they are my own men.”

Grindelwald laughed at this, smiling into the phone. “Look at you! And they say that I am the animal. Oh but look at the time, I really should be hanging up now—but first, Harry do you have any last words to our monster here?” He turned the phone once more to Harry. The young adult looked haggard and tired but still, he kept a brave face. He looked at the phone and was silent for a moment.

“What? No words? Oh well,” Grindelwald’s voice said, and the screen went blank. Voldemort turned to the young girl.

She looked up at him and before she opened her mouth, Voldemort warned her, “You better have his position before you even think of opening your mouth.”

The girl looked at the computer screen then back at Voldemort. “I have it.”


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

“I feel like gloating,” Grindelwald said, “would you like to hear me gloat, not that you have a choice.” He smirked at Harry and stared for a moment. He still had the knife stuck in his leg, and his body was still bloodied from the seemingly endless whipping Grindelwald gave him.

Still conscious and gritting through the pain that slowly dulled with passing time, Harry glared at Grindelwald. “Go ahead,” he said.

Grindelwald smirked, “Well I’m sure you heard it, but your husband just been double-crossed by his follower, a Mr. Yaxley I believe. Well, it is a very interesting story about how I got him on my side. It was the day after I came here. I was dining in this rather exclusive restaurant when a note came my way. It had a list of the people closest to Tom Riddle, along with a very tantalizing offer. ‘Make sure that Riddle pays for humiliating me and I will offer you the city.’ Well, obviously a letter like that got me a little interested. Who was it that sent such a letter? A scorned lover? A jealous sibling? A young adult victim out for revenge? My mind kept spinning at who. So imagine my surprise, and honestly disappointment, when it was Mr. Yaxley, a rather old dignified gentleman, who came to me.

“We talked over lunch, and he has told me all these very interesting stories. About Riddle and you, specifically. About how his views and goals all narrowed towards you. How everyone else seemed to be left behind, Riddle’s concern over matters and advancement seemed to stop all because he saw this ‘beautiful harlot’ to use his words. Although if I must say, Harry, at this moment you are a sparkling gem glittering in the pale moonlight... But anyway, we talked, and he was a rather poor and boring conversationalist. Only cared and talked about himself and his woes, you know the type, dreadful, disgustingly dreadful. I almost stabbed him right then and there in the restaurant! But then he would talk about you, about all the ways dear Riddle talked and thought about you. About where you frequent, how you are a whole decade younger than Riddle, which shame on you, Harry. If you are into older men, I am only two decades older than you, so there you go. Along with your slutty, slutty past. I was aroused and impressed by everything Yaxley told me, and I decided to have some fun. You see, Yaxley told me that he wasn’t the only one angry at Riddle. He has almost a thousand people under his thumb, correct? Out of that thousand, there is hmm around fifty that hate him? Fifty people ready to betray and kill their fellows as soon as I have Riddle’s head. You will enjoy the spectacle Harry, I promise you.

“Well I needed something concrete about these fifty good souls, and your connection with Riddle, I needed proof. So Yaxley has so kindly provided with me a list, along with a special way to connect with them in the case that he dies. An order, if you will, that I just need to text them, and everything will go down. That, along with him showing me pictures of you and Riddle, has fully convinced me that Yaxley can be trusted, at least until I have Riddle kill him, which he has done marvelously, we have to commend him on that.” Grindelwald sighed and shook his head, smiling ruefully as he looked at the phone in his hand. “This is what you get when all you do is plan and connive. It is so much simpler Harry to just kill and destroy instead of playing around. Remember that.”

“Where is this list?” Harry asked.

Grindelwald smirked at Harry and turned to him. “It’s in my pocket, but what will I get if I show you?” he asked. “Because I would love to see a show.”

“I’m hanging from a hook; how can I give you any show?” Harry asked dryly.

Grindelwald jumped slightly, as though he has forgotten that fact and looked around. “That would be a problem,” he muttered. “Wait here!” He rushed out of the room and Harry did not attempt to escape, his arms too tired to do anything. Grindelwald returned with two men carrying a high wooden table. He had the men place the table in the middle of the room. One of them grabbed Harry roughly and jerked his chains off the hook and threw him onto the table so that he was laying on it with his stomach, the wood agitating his wounds, and his ass and legs hanging over. Harry struggled, his arms feeling relief that blood can finally flow back into them, but both men kept him down as Grindelwald approached him. He bent down and Harry screamed when Grindelwald pulled the knife from his leg and stabbed it between the links of Harry’s handcuffs, the knife going through the table. Harry pulled and struggled even more but was stuck.

He couldn’t look around and was facing the mirror. Grindelwald approached from behind him, the large dildo in hand as he waved the two men off. “Your show is making this whole thing disappear without any lube,” Grindelwald smirked.

“That’s going to kill my hole,” Harry said, still struggling to get out as he felt his arms getting stronger.

Grindelwald smirked, “Then you should hope you bleed a lot, so it won’t hurt for long,” he purred. He slowly moved the dildo to Harry’s hole and for the first time, Harry broke down in fear.

“No, no, no—AHHH!” Harry screamed, and the dildo forced itself in.

Voldemort barely had time to tell his people where Grindelwald was before he ran to the nearest car, his weapons in hand. He did not bring much himself, just a pistol, and a few knives. That was all he needed. He knew that his minions held the more heavy-fire weapons, and they would all arrive at Grindelwald’s hideout at his command. He drove towards the outskirts of the city, parking his car a few blocks away from where Grindelwald was.

It was an abandoned building that was scheduled for demolition later that week. The building used to be a small business and apartment that failed to pay several months’ rent if Voldemort remembered. Its walls were graffitied over, and windows were broken from teenage brats testing their throwing arms.

There were two men standing by the front door, holding their guns openly as they guarded the entrance. Voldemort quickly snuck into the shadows and approached carefully, screwing on a silencer to his pistol as he got closer to the two guards. He paused and looked around before squeezing between the small alleyway between the abandoned building and its neighbor. He knew the area. Knew it very well from years of work with his mentor. The small alleyway led to a back area with another door, but Voldemort did not take that. Instead, he stopped halfway where there was a window broken and open. Voldemort looked around and quickly jumped in, his feet landing softly.

He was in a hallway with doors all around. At the end, he saw one door open and a man’s back towards him. Voldemort kept low and pulled his knife, putting his gun back into its holster on his upper thigh. When he was close enough, Voldemort struck like a python, a hand grabbing the man’s head, covering his mouth as he slit the man’s throat. He pulled the dying body to the floor and kept a strong grip until he stopped struggling. Voldemort let the body drop and went past him, moving into a small room furnished with old dust-covered couches and tables.

He stuck to a corner and took a breath as he planned out what he was going to do. His men would be there in ten minutes. He did not want any trouble or complications finding Harry, so it would be better if he kills as many guards as he could while he searches. With that in mind, Voldemort looked around before returning to the body, searching it for anything useful.

Finding nothing, Voldemort continued on into the next room. He opened the door slowly and sneaked in just as two guards walked in. He immediately jumped to a dark corner and stayed as the two oblivious guards went to the window. They both had machine guns and loose lips. “How much longer are we going to do this?” one asked, “I want a go at that whore downstairs.”

“Don’t let Mr. Grindelwald hear you, I heard he cut a man’s cock off just for looking at one of his whores.”

“But he told us that we each are going to have a go, and can you blame me? The whore looks hot for a man, if we dress him up we can pretend he’s a woman,” the first said.

“And when the whore gets hard?” the second one asked. The first guard chuckled, “That’s what knives are for,” he said. “Cut it off and make a pussy.”

“Dude you’re so sick,” the second guard grumbled. The first laughed and Voldemort moved. He took two knives out and snuck up to them, stabbing the back of their necks. The two screamed but Voldemort kept a sturdy grip on both knives so that as the two turned, the knives glided across their necks and throats, slicing them open. Voldemort pulled his knife out of the first guard and stabbed his cock as he fell, twisting the knife in a full circle, smiling as the dying man gargled in his own blood as he tried to scream.

Just like his first kill, Voldemort searched their bodies. He found money along with the first man’s own knife but again, he found nothing useful. He pulled the bodies away from the window, hiding them either in the shadow or behind a couch before moving on into what looked like a kitchen. On the counter there were papers, and Voldemort immediately went to them.

It only took Voldemort a second before smirking as he read it. The papers were schematics of the building including guard patrols and positions. The building itself was five stories high, each story having four windows facing the street. Grindelwald had two men each per window, with at least one man per room. In total it looked that Grindelwald had at least forty men at the windows, along with a good thirty or so patrolling. So far, Voldemort only killed three. _I’ll clear out the first floor, separating Grindelwald from his men,_ Voldemort thought to himself. _He’s in the basement according to my new friend._ He looked back over his shoulder towards where he killed the two guards. _There are three more windows, along with the men patrolling, and ten minutes before my men arrive._ With a more defined plan in mind, Voldemort took a picture of the papers and sent them to the Lestranges.

The door started to open, and Voldemort ducked just as a guard walks in. He watched as the guard went to the sink on the opposite side of the room and started washing his hands. Voldemort stood up and aimed his silenced pistol at the guard’s head. It fired with a soft _ping_ and the man dropped, his head hitting the counter on the way down. _Four guards now,_ Voldemort thought.

He continued his way, moving like a swift reaper as he went from room to room, killing the guards he finds. Nobody saw him coming. He stuck to the shadows, using his knives mostly to slit their throats but using his gun when appropriate. In nine minutes, Voldemort made a full rotation of the first floor, returning to the first body he killed.

“AHHH!”

Voldemort froze. That was Harry’s voice. The bastard was torturing him! Voldemort followed the screams, his heart weeping as he heard his Songbird’s cries of true pain. The screams came behind a door by the room where he killed the first two window guards. He tested the door and found that it was unlocked. It swung easily, and Harry’s screams intensified.

He heard gunfire and the front doors slammed open. His men started to run in, Bellatrix leading them. She ran towards Voldemort, “My Lord.”

“Block this door, Grindelwald is down there with my Songbird. Pair in teams of two and sweep the building, killing everyone,” Voldemort ordered.

“Yes my Lord,” Bellatrix said, and Voldemort went downstairs.

He found Grindelwald completely preoccupied with his Songbird. The man was holding the fisting plug Voldemort lovingly put in his wife only two days before and forcing the toy in and out of his love’s hole. Blood stained the toy and Harry’s ass, some dripping down as the young man cried and screamed from the violation. Voldemort pulled out his gun and stepped towards them.

“Finally, you’re here,” Grindelwald said. He violently pulled the toy from Harry, breaking more vessels in his ass as blood gushed. He dropped the toy and turned to Voldemort. “I promised Harry here I would kill you in front of him.”

“Strange,” Voldemort said, “I remember doing something similar.”

“Well that won’t work, we can’t kill each other in front of the whore, who’s going to fuck him afterward?” Grindelwald asked.

Harry struggled, rattling his chains against the knife. Voldemort glanced at him before looking at Grindelwald. “Or I can just shoot you now,” he said. “You are unarmed. It is almost no fun shooting you.”

“Then let us make it fun,” Grindelwald said, and he seemingly pulled a knife out of nowhere. “Guns are too quick, too impersonal. They are no fun, aren’t they? Just one pull and your target is dead. No drawn-out pain, no time to gloat, and contend against one another about who is truly the strongest. Now I am sure that you have many, many knives on your body. So take one out and throw the rest away. We can see which one of us is truly the strongest.”

Voldemort smirked. He stood his full height and pulled out a knife. He shrugged off his jacket and threw it towards Harry, landing with a metallic clatter. He unclasped the holster around his leg and threw it with the jacket. “Very well,” he said. “Although I must feel a little guilty about carving out an old man such as yourself.”

“Didn’t you hear? Harry loves older men,” Grindelwald chuckled. The two circled slowly, knives at the ready, waiting for the other one to strike. Grindelwald smirked and started talking. “Shall I tell you what I will do with Harry after I kill you?” he taunted. “I promise to be more explicit this time around.”

Harry glanced around and pressed his feet against the legs of the table, groaning as the table dragged against his bleeding lashes. His ass screamed as blood bled from what he was sure was his fully ruptured butt. Grindelwald was fully distracted now, taunting Voldemort with his long speech about how he will rape Harry over and over. Harry gritted through the speech, doing his best to block it out as he stared at the knife that was keeping him in place. He pulled his arms just as he pushed his feet against the legs. His arms groaned as the knife stood in place. Harry did not give up, however, and kept the pressure going as he kept silent at his body rocking in pain.

The knife shook slightly as the metal links groaned. The knife slowly pulled out of the table, and Harry pulled harder as Grindelwald stopped talking. The two men rushed each other, and Harry’s pulls became frantic. The knife started to jiggle more freely, moving more and more until, with a final pull, the knife slid out of the table and Harry fell off.

He didn’t celebrate his new freedom. Harry quickly scrambled to grab the knife on the table and turned to the two men fighting. Grindelwald had his back to him. He had cuts on his arms and clothes. Voldemort, however, looked more savagely beaten. He was clearly on the defensive, moving backward and weaving around as he tried to avoid Grindelwald’s wild swings. Sometimes there was a clang as the two knives met each other, but mostly it was Voldemort dodging a blow before giving one himself. Harry did not wait any longer, he held the knife tightly to him and rushed towards Grindelwald.

He thrust his arms forward and the knife stabbed the man’s back, sinking into the skin until the blade was fully in. Harry jumped away, falling as the man swung around, roaring. “You little shit,” Grindelwald growled out, his eyes mad. “I tried saving you, but now I’m not even sure if I want a whore like you—”

_BAM_

A bullet hole appeared in his chest. Grindelwald staggered, his rage turning into shock as he stared at Harry. “That’s cheating…” He fell and Harry saw Voldemort holding a very small gun. Voldemort stepped towards Harry; the gun still aimed at Grindelwald. He shot the body three more times, each time causing the body to jerk before he knew for certain that the man was dead.

Voldemort dropped the gun and knelt down in front of Harry. “Always bring two guns, Songbird,” he said softly, “one your enemy sees and another, hidden, to actually kill.”

“How did you find me?” Harry asked softly. He reached out for Voldemort, who took him in his arms. His body still ached horribly, but everything seemed to go away when Voldemort held him.

“The idiot’s more brash than smart,” Voldemort said, looking at Grindelwald’s body. “He kept talking long enough for us to trace his call. Unfortunately, it seems that Yaxley was working with him. He is dead now, obviously.”

“The list!” Harry gasped. He looked at his fiancé and then glanced at Grindelwald. “He told me he has a list of fifty of your people. They hate you enough to betray you,” he said.

Voldemort frowned and looked at the man. “Can you stand for a moment while I search his body?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Harry nodded, “You hurt harder than him,” he added a grin.

“Watch it Songbird,” Voldemort warned. “Daddy is still working.”

“When did that stop us?” Harry said, grimacing when his feet touched the floor and his ass and body surged with pain.

Voldemort quickly went to the body and searched it thoroughly, pulling out knife after knife from the man’s clothes and pockets before finding a piece of paper. He unfolded it and looked at his Songbird. “Would you like to watch?” he asked, holding the piece of paper up.

“Please Daddy,” Harry whined. Voldemort smirked and lifted Harry once more. “Then we will have our fun once you are fully healed,” he said. “The nearest hospital has men loyal to me, they will take good care of you.”

Voldemort carried Harry out of the basement bridal style, his jacket covering Harry’s naked body. They could hear fighting upstairs, but Voldemort did not pay it any mind. His men outnumbered Grindelwald’s. “I was expecting more,” he commented. “Savages followed Grindelwald, an army of them. However, they will disperse with their leader dead.”

“Will they ever come into Hogwarts?” Harry asked.

“Only if they wish to die,” Voldemort commented. He walked out of the building and gently placed Harry in the nearest car. Voldemort slid into the driver’s seat and looked at his love. “Are you sure that he did not hurt you too badly?” he asked.

Harry gave out a cold laugh and turned smiling at his Voldemort, a mad glint in his eyes. “Of course Daddy,” he said. “Like I said, you hurt harder.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Time: A WEDDING!! And we can finally see Harry's wedding dress. ...Yes that is the best cliffhanger I can think of, sue me.


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

A full year and a couple months passed since Grindelwald’s death. Harry watched as Voldemort moved through the list he found and killed the fifty traitors one by one. Now, at Twenty-Two, Harry was fully anxious and excited about his August wedding.

On the day of the wedding, it was very sunny. Harry and Tom agreed on a beach wedding, since it has been forever since they personally went there, and so Tom rented out a private beach just for the wedding and reception. An open tent was pitched so that the wedding can be shaded against the brutal sun along with a long straight red walkway for the guests and Harry so that they do not get sand in their shoes. Harry’s parents insisted on an afternoon wedding, however both Harry and Tom agreed that, with their love of the night and its stars, the wedding would take place at sunset so that by the time they say “I do” the moon should be rising.

There was a small house right on the beachfront that was being used as a changing and waiting room for Harry, along with general use for the guests. Harry did not know much about the house except that it was his and Tom’s now, the older man making him promise that he will let Tom deal with all the expenses. Right now Harry was in a bedroom in the back, facing the beach. He was only in his underwear as he prepared to get dress. There was a knock on the door and Harry said, “Come in” without looking at who it was.

“Damn Harry, have we mentioned you have a great ass?”

Harry rolled his eyes as he turned to see Blaise and Draco, already dressed in their tuxedos that Harry picked. They were off-white, almost ivory. “I was waiting for my Daddies to come dress me one last time,” Harry said, smiling at them.

“Since when did we do that?” Draco asked.

“Right now. Help me with this, please?” He pointed to his wedding outfit. His two groomsmen looked at it for a moment, Draco cocking his head a little. “You know there’s a skirt to it,” he said.

“Yes Draco, as a dress there is supposed to be a skirt-like part,” Harry said sarcastically. “Now help me because the last time I tried to put it on myself, I almost ripped the whole thing out of frustration.”

“You wear dresses,” Draco said pointedly.

“And they are either slip-ons or I have Tom help me,” Harry said, “Now stop bitching and help me.”

Draco stared at Harry for a long moment before turning to Blaise, “Is it too late to call the wedding off as his Daddies?” he asked.

“No love, it is,” Blaise laughed. “Come on, let’s help Harry get dressed.”

“Fine—oh, Harry for some reason my aunt is sitting on Tom’s side,” Draco pouted, “Do you know why?”

“Because Tom’s her boss I’m guessing,” Harry shrugged. “I told her that could sit in either, but she chose Tom’s. Why? What is she wearing?”

“Something that mixes Victorian and a bad Burton film,” Draco said. “Also tiny sunglasses.” He gave a sigh and shook his head, “Why can’t my family be normal like yours, Harry?”

“Believe me, I am not marrying into a normal family, far from it in fact. Now, help me with my dress.”

Half an hour later, Harry was alone once more in his wedding outfit. The door opened one more time and his father walked in. “You ready?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Harry nodded.

Mr. Potter offers his arm and Harry took it as the two walked out of the room. It was a short walk to the back door of the house, and from there, they made their way down to where the walkway start. The afternoon sun was still strong, shining down on Harry and his father as an enchanting light melody began to swell. They reached the main walkway, and the guests all stood up and Harry took a breath, looking down at his wedding outfit one last time.

He was wearing an emerald tuxedo waistcoat top with short sleeves and a black bowtie. The waistcoat was embroidered near the bottom, songbirds flying upwards and connecting the top piece to the bottom dress. On his arms were soft gloves that reached his elbows. The waistcoat and shirt lead down to a black pair of pants with an open skirt that trailed to the floor with a slight train behind him. The shirt matched the waistcoat, mixing both masculinity and femininity. For once in his life, Harry’s hair has been properly tamed, and he had a bit of make-up on to hide any blemishes or imperfections on his face.

He walked slowly with his father, looking at the guests as he did so. On Tom’s side were members of his mafia, the inner circle as he called them, as well as some more influential pieces under his control. His assassin, for one, which Harry never formally met, along with Mr. Martin. He also saw surprisingly the Mayor of Hogwarts and what he assumed were several businessmen sitting near the back. They were an odd group honestly, especially compared to Harry’s side which had his friends and family, along with Sirius and Remus Black and the drag queens who perform at Marauders’ once a month. _What a very gay assemble,_ Harry couldn’t help but think as he continued down, now facing towards the end where his Tom waited along with a minister and their groomsmen.

Tom dressed in a black suit stepped down from the small stage that they are on and held out his hand for Harry. Mr. Potter hugged Harry and handed him to Tom. They walked the few steps to the stage and stepped up to it, taking their positions. The music stopped and the guests all sat down.

The Minister looked at both Harry and Tom before addressing everybody. “Marriage. Marriage is what brings us together today. That blessed arrangement. The dream within a dream. Love, true love… Today we come together as friends and family to rejoice the love and union between these two men, Thomas Marvolo Riddle and Harry James Potter. Before we continue, if ever there should be a reason that these two should not be wed, please speak now or forever hold your peace.” The Minister stopped for a moment and Tom quickly glanced at his side, glaring. Silence and the Minister continued. “With no objections we shall continue on. The couple have selected to write their own vows, Tom Riddle has asked to go first.”

The two faced each other and Tom held Harry’s hand. “Well here we are, my Songbird,” he smirked. “Though our lives have only crossed two years ago, my time with you have been full of adventures. I never thought that I would be standing here, nor would I thought that I would care so much for one person. You, Harry, are my heart and soul. You taught me everything I know about love and reminded me just how fun simple living can be. I knew from the moment I saw you, that I needed you in my life, but it was not until I proposed that I truly knew and understood the value you have added. In the murky abyss of Hogwarts, you are my shining beacon, my beautiful songbird singing me out of misery. I am a possessive man Harry, and I vow to keep you and hold you, to love you and protect you from all of the world’s most grizzly secrets. I am not usually a man who expresses his emotions, you know that Harry. So I hope you truly understand when I say that I love you. I love you and thank you for all that you have done for me.” Tom brought Harry’s hand to his lips, kissing it.

Harry found himself sniffling as he smiled. The guests as well were sniffling, and out of the corner of his eye, he could see his mother dabbing her eyes with a tissue. He took a breath.

“Harry,” the Minister said.

Harry had to control himself, letting go of Tom’s hand only to clean his eyes from tears. “God, there’s no way I can live up to that,” he whispered. He cleared his throat and did his best to remember the small speech he wrote. “Well Tom, today’s finally the day I become your wife, huh? I know I’m not as good with words as you are, which is funny considering I’m a English Major. Sorry—” Harry chuckled nervously as tears started to fill his eyes once more. “I don’t know how many ways I can tell you ‘I love you.’ You came into my life like a hurricane and just turned everything upside down. Your allure, your power, your kindness, your everything—everything about you just draw me towards you and I am so happy it did. You really did save my life, I learned about love from you and there is never a day that I am not proud to be your Songbird. I love you, and that will never change. I can’t wait to see what tomorrow brings because I know that we’ll face it together as husband and Songbird.”

Tom chuckled and smiled, “That we will,” he whispered.

The Minister nodded. “We will now proceed to the exchanging of the rings,” she said. Both Harry and Tom pulled out the wedding rings. “Tom, if you would repeat after me.”

Tom repeated after the Minister as he said, “With this ring, I thee wed, and with it, I bestow upon thee all the treasures of my mind, heart, and hands.” He slipped the wedding ring on Harry. Harry couldn’t help but feel jealous at Tom as while he feels on the verge of tears, Tom’s face remained perfectly composed.

“Harry, if you would repeat after me,” the Minister said, getting Harry’s attention.

Harry nodded and prepare to slip his ring on Tom’s finger. “With this ring, I thee wed, and with it, I bestow upon thee all the treasures of my mind, heart, and hands.” He slipped it on.

“Thomas Riddle, do you promise to love Harry freely—without restrictions; honesty—without deceit; now—without hesitation?”

“I do.”

“Do you promise to take him as he is, sharing with him and supporting him through the experiences of your lives, be they easy or difficult, happy or sad, challenging or mundane, till death do you part?”

“I do.”

The Minister turned to Harry.

“Harry Potter, do you promise to love Thomas freely—without restrictions; honesty—without deceit; now—without hesitation?”

“I do.”

“Do you promise to take him as he is, sharing with him and supporting him through the experiences of your lives, be they easy or difficult, happy or sad, challenging or mundane, till death do you part?”

“I do.”

The Minister looked at both of them and addressed everyone. “Inasmuch as Harry and Thomas have consented together in marriage before this company; have pledged their faith and declared their unity by each giving and receiving a ring – and are now joined in mutual esteem and devotion; I pronounce that they are husband and husband together. You may now kiss the husband.”

Applause rang out as they kissed, Tom pulling Harry forward. As Tom planned, the sun has just set, and the moon began to rise. They kept it chase, but long as their friends and family applauded. When they separated, the Minister shook both their hands giving them her congratulations. Smiling at each other, and their hearts soaring high, Harry and Tom held hands as they walked down the aisle, now legally married, and a second thunderous round of applause began.

The reception was to be held in a nearby reception hall that had a balcony that had a beautiful view of the ocean. Tom and Harry took a limo to the hall, alone in it as the guests all made their way towards it in other limbos and cars. Alone, they kissed once more and Tom smirked, “It’s finally done, Songbird.”

“I’m your wife now Daddy,” Harry chuckled. “You have no idea what you signed up for.”

Tom laughed and kissed Harry’s ring. “I think I can handle anything my beautiful Songbird can think of.”

“Even if it’s a bit… masochistic?” Harry asked.

“Especially if it involves delicious pain,” Tom purred. He leaned forward and opened the small refrigerator that the limbo is equipped with. He pulled out a bottle of champagne and poured two glasses. “I am glad that you convinced me to wait until after you’re legal,” he said. “I would hate for you not to drink on your wedding night.”

“Then to debauchery, murder, and bestsellers,” Harry suggested, taking his drink.

“I was hoping for something more romantic but that would work,” Tom chuckled.

“It’s us,” Harry shrugged. They drank to it and relaxed in each other’s presence.

As planned, they were the first two to arrive at the reception. There was no entrance planned, just them standing by the front doors to welcome the guests in. In groups and couples, everyone came in, offering them their congratulations. Harry noticed that Tom was particularly interested in making sure the mayor and other business professionals give their congratulations, Tom giving their hands a firmer handshake. “You better not be working on our wedding,” Harry said.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Tom purred. “Ahh! Your parents.”

Mr. and Mrs. Potter walked in. “Harry!” Mrs. Potter said, hugging her son. “I’m so proud of you both,” she said, hugging Tom as well.

“Thank you mum,” Harry blushed.

“Sons, it was beautiful,” Mr. Potter said. “And rather short.”

“We would rather get to the point,” Tom shrugged. Mr. Potter grabbed Tom’s hand to shake and pulled him into a hug, surprising Harry’s husband. Mrs. Potter shook her head amused and patted her husband’s shoulder. “We’ll talk later,” she said, pulling her husband away.

The rest came in, Harry’s friends from the drag club practically squeezing him and demanding that he dances with them before walking away. Tom leaned towards Harry and whispered, “It looks like they helped themselves to the free drinks already.”

“Shut up,” Harry said, rolling his eyes. When the last of the guest have arrived, Harry and Tom went to the center of the hall as everyone else were sitting. They stopped in the middle of the dance area and an announcer’s voice filled the room. “Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to the celebration of Tom and Harry Riddle’s marriage! Please stand and welcome the newly wedded couple as they have their first dance as husband and husband.”

A favored slow song of Tom’s started to play and the two danced, with Tom leading of course. After a while others joined, and the nice started to become a blur of dancing and eating and drinking. Tom and Harry never left each other’s side, people coming up to them to congratulate and just talk with them. Harry smiled during their dinner as he noticed his parents and Sirius and Remus hitting it off swimmingly.

After a few drinks, Harry smiled when he saw Dudley walk up to him followed by a young woman. “Hello Harry, err congratulations,” Dudley said, “and thanks for inviting us, I really wasn’t expecting it.”

“You’re fine,” Harry shrugged. “It’s your parents who are annoying.”

“It seems you’re a talkative drunk,” Tom said amusingly.

Dudley shook his head, “No, no he’s right. Mum and Dad, they’re… conservative. Oh! Forget about them, here, this is my girl, Phoebe.”

The young woman stepped up, “Hi Harry, been a while,” he said.

“Hello Phoebe,” Harry said politely, “you look very lovely.”

Phoebe blushed and glanced at Dudley. “Thank you,” she said. “Duddles takes good care of me.”

“I bet he does,” Harry smiled.

“Your dress looks really good,” Phoebe said.

“Thank you,” Harry smiled. A thought came to him in his drunken mind, “Hey how about we go clothes shopping one day! And afterwards, you can give me tips on tucking?”

“O-Oh! Uh sure,” Phoebe nodded, shocked that Harry would talk about something so explicit so openly. “I’ll text you after your honeymoon. See you.” Harry watched as his cousin and his girlfriend walked away. He heard chuckling behind him and turned, “What?” he asked innocently.

“Oh nothing, just simply amazing the fact that you’re fully mine now,” Tom smirked.

“Yeah, I am,” Harry said, kissing Tom. “Come on! Let’s go dance!”

The night went on with endless celebration. Harry changed halfway through into something easier to move in and spent almost an hour straight dancing with Blaise and Draco. They all joked about tiring Tom out as he spent the hour walking around, talking with his commanders and others, joining every now and again. It was well past midnight when people started to leave, everyone giving one last cheer for Harry and Tom.

The married couple returned to their new beachside home, Tom carrying Harry into the master bedroom, both already handsy as they try their best to get the other naked. “Tom please,” Harry panted. “I need you.”

“What do you need, Songbird?” Tom chuckled.

“I need my husband’s cock in my weeping pussy,” Harry breathed, “Please Master?”

Tom chuckled. “Such a needy wife I have,” he said. He sat down on the edge of the bed, taking his shirt off and kicking off his shoes. “Strip Harry,” he commanded. “Strip for your master.”

Smiling, Harry spilled off of Tom’s lap and stood up, dancing to music in his head as he teasingly took off his clothes, rubbing his body as he did, bringing great emphasis to his chest, dragging his hands down to his clothed cock and spun around, shaking his butt at Tom. “Like this, Master?” Harry teased.

“Exactly,” Tom purred. Harry soon was just in a pair of panties when he got to his knees, crawling up to Tom. He grabbed Tom’s pants and helped him get them off, his cock hard and leaking standing proud and large. Silently, Harry started licking just as he was trained. Tom cursed, breathing heavily.

“Hey Daddy, guess what,” Harry said childishly, holding the base of Tom’s cock as he licked it like a lollipop. “I love my husband.”

“Funny thing Songbird, I love my husband too,” Tom smirked. “Now let me fuck him like the bitch he is.” They consummated their marriage, making love like proper husbands, Master and his Songbird, lovers who will conquer all who would oppose them. As Tom fills Harry with his love and seed, Harry remembers his place, the trials he had to suffer through to reach this moment, this instant of his love, his Master, his Voldemort filling him in what he desperately needs. He did not care that their hands were bloodied. Right now in this moment, they were husbands, and though he knew that their hands would be bloodied in the future, it did not matter for he knew that during these times they would have together. And all will be well.

THE END


End file.
